


Feels So Hard to Breathe

by AlyKat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A/B/O verse, Alpha Clint Barton, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And besides...Abby and Sandra are pretty damn awesome, Drug induced Heats (background), F/F, F/M, Fake Relationship, I needed more couples for Clint and Phil to interact with, It's a couples retreat, M/M, Maybe should be considered implied Mpreg, Mpreg, Omega Phil Coulson, Original Character Death(s), Pining, Please don't be scared off by the fact there's OC's here, Pre-Phase One, They were required to move the story along, couples retreat, not sure., pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Pretty basic. AIM idiots are up to no good and focusing on couples at the Basin Harbor Club for whatever dumb reason. We go in, pose as happy couple, find the baddies, stop ‘em before they cause more trouble, save the day. Should be a cakewalk.”</p>
<p>“Famous last words, Barton,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels So Hard to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth/gifts).



> This was finished so close to Kisleth's birthday that, well, I couldn't not gift it to her! Especially since it matched criteria she had on her Birthday Story Wishlist. So, Happy Birthday, Darlin'!
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful isisanubis for beta-ing this for me so quickly! I greatly appreciate that! 
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if there's really dubcon in this or not. Drug induced Heats. One Omega is hit with one and she and her Mate disappear for the rest of the story. But since they're already mated, not sure if that counts as dubcon so please use your own judgments. There is also a character death towards the end of the story: Alpha on Alpha fight, but I don't really think it's all that graphic so...again...use your own judgment. 
> 
> Standard Disclaimer: Marvel's toys, I'm just playing with them. However, the Rudyards, Albrights, and Stynes belong to me and I'd rather you not take them. Thank you.

Clint stared down at the folder in his hand, taking in the beautiful resort situated on a large, breathtaking lake, surrounded by trees in various stages of early Autumn color changing. It was the sort of place he probably wouldn’t mind too much going to stay at for a relaxing weekend away. This wasn’t just some nice little getaway trip, this was a mission. A mission with Phil. A weight settled in his stomach as he flipped past the pictures and onto the mission specs.  
  
“Is there a problem, Barton?”  
  
Lifting his head quickly, brows raised, Clint shook his head as he stared back at Fury. “No, Sir. Just curious about why you decided I was the right man for this assignment.”  
  
Nick Fury leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers as he stared across his desk at Clint. If it weren’t for the fact Clint had known the man long enough, he might almost be terrified. Instead, he leaned back in his own seat, arms folded over his chest and the file hanging loosely from his hand.  
  
“We need a team that works well together. That is already living in each other’s back pockets. Who know each other inside and out and are comfortable making split second decisions without notifying the other.” Fury’s eyebrow raised, head tilted down just slightly to make himself more intimidating. It didn’t work.  
  
“You and Coulson are my two best. This shouldn’t be an issue, Agent Barton. It’s not an issue, is it?”  
  
A tick formed at the corner of Clint’s mouth. He wanted to protest, to say it was the biggest problem in the world, but he couldn’t. Because in reality, it was a dream come true; just not the way Clint had ever hoped for it to happen.  
  
“No, Sir. No issues.”  
  
“Good,” smiled Fury in that awkwardly creepy way that only he could accomplish --and yeah okay, that scared Clint more than the intimidation act did any day, “then get your ass down to Coulson’s office. You leave for Vermont tomorrow afternoon, 12:30.”  


* * *

  
  
Flopping down on Phil’s couch, Clint held up the file folder in his hand. “So, _Paul Clarkson_ , huh? God that sounds like such a fake name.”  
  
From the desk, Phil hummed softly, though never lifted his eyes from what he was working on. “You’re one to talk, _Clayton Burton_.”  
  
Clint groaned, dropping his head back against the cushions to stare up at the ceiling. This was definitely going to be a bad idea. It was one thing if they could pose as a couple who had been together for years and the magic had kind of worn off, but no. They were supposed to be a new couple, hopelessly and madly in love with each other. It wasn’t going to be a stretch for Clint, and that was the problem. Clint had been in love with Phil for longer than he cared to admit.  
  
“I’m going to assume you already know our cover story?” Phil questioned, finally glancing up to look over at Clint.  
  
With a sigh, Clint nodded, pushing himself upright again. “You’re Paul Clarkson, my slightly workaholic Omega fiancé. You work for a law office dealing in real estate issues. Everything that goes over my head.”  
  
Phil nodded, leaning back in his own chair. “And you’re Clayton ‘Clay’ Burton, my laidback and doting Alpha fiancé. You’re an architect and decided we needed a trip away to the retreat before the wedding to unwind and reconnect with each other,”  
  
“Because you’ve been at your office almost nonstop,”  
  
“And you were off supervising a new subdivision for low-income families.”  
  
Clint nodded again, leaning over a bit to flip through the folder another time. “We’re not Bound yet, because we both agreed to wait until after the wedding to do that. Make it special or something sappy like that…” Though he scrunched his nose at the idea, the weight in his stomach grew all the heavier at the idea. Yeah, that would be special. _If only…_  
  
“Right,” Phil gave a nod, leaning back over his desk and grabbing up his pen again. “Do you want to go over the mission spe--”  
  
“How’d we meet?” Clint asked suddenly, looking back up to meet Phil’s surprised glance. “It’s not in here. Says ‘own discretion’. Guess that means we get to make it up ourselves?”  
  
For a long moment, neither man said anything. Shifting under the weight of Phil’s stare, Clint shrugged and looked back down at the file. “I mean, someone’s probably going to ask that, right? That’s something normal people ask happy new couples?”  
  
Phil cleared his throat. “I suppose so, yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.”  
  
Clint’s heart sank just a bit. “Oh,” he closed the folder, tossing it to the small table in front of the couch. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll come up with something on the fly if anyone even asks to begin with.”    
  
“Good,” Phil turned his attention back down to his own files. “Now, do you want to go over the mission specs?”  
  
Leaning back into the cushions again, Clint folded his arms over his chest. “Pretty basic. AIM idiots are up to no good and focusing on couples at the Basin Harbor Club for whatever dumb reason. We go in, pose as happy couple, find the baddies, stop ‘em before they cause more trouble, save the day. Should be a cakewalk.”  
  
From his desk, Phil let out a soft groan of aggravation, his grey eyes lifting to meet Clint’s faux innocent grin.  
  
“Famous last words, Barton,” He muttered, shaking his head. “Go pack and get some rest. We need to get an early start tomorrow.”  
  
Grabbing up the file from the table, Clint bounced to his feet with a mock salute. “See ya at 12:00, _Sweetie._ ”  
  
“ _Out_.”

* * *

  
  
Stepping out of the truck, his duffel swung over one shoulder, Clint let out a low whistle as he looked the grounds over. It was a massive and truly beautiful resort. The main building was a grand white manor with a red roof, and ivy creeping up the pillars on the front porch. There was a massive golf course on the grounds, and just across the water another few bed and breakfast like buildings stood out in bright white against the slowly changing leaves, while the smaller, more intimate cottages were scattered throughout the trees.  
  
“Leave your bags out here,” Phil instructed, tossing Clint the keys from over the top of the rented Dodge pickup truck. “We’re in one of the cottages, we’re going to have to drive over to wherever it is.”  
  
Dropping his bag back into the bed of the truck, Clint shrugged and pocketed the keys. “Right.”  
  
He waited for Phil to come around the edge of the truck before sliding up next to him, his arm easily slipping around his waist as if it belonged there. He felt the minute way Phil tensed at the action and forced the way his heart sank out of his mind. They were going to have to be a believable couple, which meant Phil would just have to get over whatever it was that bothered him. Leaning in, Clint pressed a slightly over dramatic kiss to his cheek, just grinning when Phil shot him a brief, surprised glance.  
  
Clint kept his arm around Phil’s waist as they stepped into the reception lobby and looked around, scoping the place for possible exits and for anything that might be out of place. A family rushed by, the young kids laughing excitedly as they ran ahead of their parents and forced Clint to step further into Phil’s side. Politely, he acknowledged the adults apologies with a smile and nod.  
  
“Cute pups,” He said, looking at Phil with a smirk.  
  
Phil gave a noncommittal hum as they stepped up to the counter, but nothing else. The smirk fell and Clint slowly pulled his arm from around Phil, letting his fingers linger on the small of his back before coming around to settle on the flat, smooth wood of the counter.  
  
A pretty little red headed Beta looked up from her computer, smiling brightly at them both. “Good afternoon,” She greeted cheerily, “How can I help you gentlemen, today?”  
  
The act was on. Clint smiled back, leaning against the counter, his hands folded in front of him as he quickly looked down to the name tag on the woman’s shirt. “Afternoon, Bridget,” He said, his smile brightening, “We have a reservation for the retreat being held here? Should be under the name Burton.”  
  
Bridget nodded, her soft curls bouncing in a way that almost reminded Clint of Natasha’s hair when she didn’t straighten it, and her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Clayton Burton?”  
  
“That’s me,” Clint grinned, already working to produce his fake license and credit card to hand across to her.  
  
“Welcome to Basin Harbor, Mr. Burton,” Bridget’s smile was megawatt bright as she quickly finished processing their reservation and handed the cards back to Clint before turning to grab a key off the hook behind her.  
  
“You and your partner are going to be in cottage eighteen.” She grabbed a map from the plastic holder next to Phil, smiling up at him sweetly before opening it and pointing out the best way to get there from their location. “It’s a single bedroom cottage, with a sitting porch that looks out over the lake. It’s one of our most popular cottages. Very romantic,” her whispered admission was met with a huff from Phil and a soft chuckle from Clint. Maybe it was just the light, but Clint thought he might have seen a bit of pink rise up on Phil’s cheeks.    
  
“That sounds perfect and just what we need. Thank you.”  
  
Bridget nodded, still smiling as she turned to pull another folder up. Pale blue with gold lettering, she held it out to Clint. “This is the information about the retreat. There’s going to be a welcoming supper at seven o’clock in our main dining room. As it is past Labor Day, resort casual attire is welcome in the main dining room. Normally during our social season gentlemen are required to wear jackets and collared shirts.”  
  
Clint nodded in understanding, flashing a quick smile to Phil, his arm slipping back around his waist as he leaned into him. “Good thing we came during off season then, I don’t think your suit jackets quite fit me, Babe.”  
  
“Not quite,” Phil’s smile was small, pleasant, and to the untrained eye just as fondly natural as could be. Clint could see the slight strain to it though and quickly turned his attention back to Bridget.  
  
With a polite giggle, Bridget explained the rest of the resort to them: the lake was open for sailing, canoeing and kayaking, but not swimming past Labor Day; there was a nine-hole golf course at their disposal, as well as various hiking paths and if they liked, the nearby town had a few little specialty shops that would be well worth a peek at. She explained that breakfast was a buffet served from seven to ten in the morning and about the Red Mill Restaurant as an alternative to the main dining room.  
  
Tossing their room key into the air and catching it with ease, Clint smiled one last time to Bridget and passed the resort map off to Phil before slipping his arm back around his waist, steering him outside again. The warm Indian Summer breeze rushed in off the lake, filling the air with the fading scent of lazy days and the slowly encroaching dominance of fall. The ivy on the pillars was a mix of green and reds, and the trees surrounding the resort were starting to sport bright oranges and yellows, the first leaves gently drifting to the ground.  
  
Clint pulled away from Phil long enough to slip into the driver’s seat of the truck, the lack of warmth and solid body against his side made him whimper inwardly. It was ridiculous, but Clint’s Alpha instincts kept trying to take over and keep Phil as close to him as possible. Especially now that he knew how nice it felt being that close to him, being able to pick up on all the subtle scents Phil gave off.  
  
It wasn’t a secret, per se, that Phil was an Omega --one who had worked his ass off to get to a Level Seven agent and hadn’t slept his way there, thank you very much-- but the man was on a regular regimen of pheromone suppressants that generally kept the young Alpha’s off his scent. For this mission, Phil had to go off them. It wouldn’t do for a supposedly engaged Omega to be walking around taking the drugs to keep his designation hidden. Being close enough to Phil while inside the building, not to mention the five hour drive in close quarters from New York City to Vergennes, Vermont, Clint had been able to finally catch Phil’s true scent, and it was damn near intoxicating.  
  
“So,” Clint said, getting the truck turned around and started off on the short drive to their cottage, “This is going to be fun.”  
  
“It’s a mission, Barton.”  
  
“Yeah, I get that, but still, if we act like we’re having fun then who knows, maybe we actually will end up enjoying ourselves, right?” He slowed to turn a corner, leaning over to get a better look at the cottage numbers before continuing down the narrow roadway. “That wouldn’t be a crime, would it? I mean, it’s a nice place…”  
  
“There’s eighteen,” Phil pointed to the unlit cottage situated between two that were clearly occupied. “and I think it would be best if we focused on catching the scientists and not on having fun.”  
  
Frowning, Clint pulled into the single parking space and sighed. It was going to be a very long week.

* * *

  
  
The cottage was nice and cozy with a small living room as soon as they stepped through the door, complete with sofa, two arm chairs and writing desk. Farther in was a decent sized bathroom with a claw-foot tub large enough for two and beyond that was the bedroom. One antique, four post, queen sized bed greeted them, its quilt giving the room the look of a country home that was maybe a bit comforting to Clint. A fireplace was on one side of the bed, a nightstand and the doors leading out to the sitting porch on the other. It was small, intimate, the kind of place that no doubt sparked other couples desires.  
  
All it did for Clint was put that cold, heavy weight back in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Their luggage and what few pieces of equipment they were able to bring with them unloaded from the truck and tucked away safely in their room, Clint flopped back on the bed, groaning heavily as his back popped and stretched. His eyes closed, he reached his arms back over his head, fingers flexing just past the other edge of the mattress and shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of skin as he felt his muscles start to relax. Spending hours silent and deathly still in a perch, waiting to be told to make his shot was nothing. It was part of his job. Having to spend five, almost five and a half hours, cooped up in a cramped pickup had been hell.  
  
He could feel Phil’s eyes on him and gave a tiny smirk. “Enjoying the view, _Darling_?” He asked, not bothering to open his eyes or sit up.  
  
“More like wondering if I need to leave you and the bed alone for a while,” was the dry reply.  
  
Mocking a gasp of despair, Clint let his arms fall where they pleased, one landing across his stomach, the other over his eyes. “Honeymoon’s over before it even happened, huh? Knew it was too good to last.”  
  
He listened as Phil moved around the room, a zipper coming undone and fabric being rustled about. Opening an eye, Clint turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Phil, digging his neatly folded clothes from a bag, and smiled softly to himself at the sight.  
  
“I’m going to take a shower and get ready for supper,” Phil answered, ignoring Clint’s jab completely. “You get things set up. Contact Fury and let him know we’ve made it and things should be progressing on schedule.” Without another word, Phil turned and disappeared into the bathroom, the door shut and locked behind him.  
  
Clint waited until he heard the water turn on before pushing himself up off the bed and doing as he was instructed. Their weapons were secured in both the nightstand and under the bed, the spare laptop on the chair next to the window --keeping it in plain sight so it looked inconspicuous and innocent enough-- and the Sat phone with its direct line to Fury tucked safely under Phil’s pillow.  
  
He’d called Fury, just like Phil had told him to, and appraised him of the situation so far. Clint would swear up one side and down the other that the man had sounded far too amused and pleased with himself when he’d told Clint to ‘have fun’ before he’d hung up.  
  
By the time Phil had finished in the bathroom, stepping out in a nice pair of khaki slacks and a lavender shirt that brought out his eyes, Clint was sprawled out on the bed again, the folder with retreat information scattered around him. He glanced up when Phil came into his view, looked him over quickly and turned his eyes back down to the papers.  
  
“You do realize,” He started, picking up one of the sheets and rolling onto his back lazily like a cat, “that in order to find the AIM Idiots, we’re going to have to participate in the activities planned for this retreat, right?”  
  
Phil gave another small hum of acknowledgement as he rummaged in his bag, pulling a pair of socks out.  
  
Clint frowned slightly, the sheet held up so he could read it. “There’s all kinds of things we’re going to have to participate in. Listen to this,” Clearing his throat a bit, he started in on the itinerary.  
  
 _Day One:_

  *  _Welcoming. Guests arrive between noon and six-thirty P.M._
  * _Welcome Supper at seven P.M. Attendance required._
  * _Bonfire on the lake nine P.M. to Midnight, attendance optional._



  
_Day Two:_

  * _Breakfast Buffet seven until eight-forty-five A.M. attendance optional._
  * _**What It Means to Be A Couple: Inspirational Lecture On How To Deal With Life And Love** , nine until eleven A.M. attendance required._
  * _Couples Ice Breaker Games on the back lawn, one until four P.M. attendance required._
  * _Trust Exercises Part One, four until six P.M. attendance required._
  * _Movie on the lawn, <b>50 First Dates</b>, eight P.M. attendance optional._



  
_Day Three:_

  * _Breakfast Buffet seven until eight-forty-five A.M. attendance optional._
  * _Group Counseling, nine until ten-thirty A.M. attendance required._
  * _Letter Writing, ten-thirty until eleven A.M. attendance required._
  * _Couples Treasure Hunt, one until two P.M. attendance required._
  * _Nature Hike Bingo, two-ten until four P.M. attendance optional._
  * _Trust Exercises Part Two, four until six P.M. attendance required._
  * _Karaoke and Games, eight until eleven P.M._



  
Setting the paper down, Clint rolled to sit himself upright, legs folded under him as he slouched forward. “That’s only to Day Three, Coulson. There’s more stuff for Days Four and Five, with plenty things required.” Clint pulled in a deep breath as he shook his head. “I realize we gotta stop whatever it is these AIM Idiots are doing, but maybe this is a bit over our heads. Maybe we should--”  
  
“What?” Phil turned abruptly, catching Clint off guard. “What exactly do you suppose we should do, Barton? Fury said he needed his best two agents on this job. The two who could handle whatever curve ball missions he threw at them. That’s us, Barton. We finish this mission. No matter what.”  
  
Clint blinked twice, dumbfounded at where the sudden outburst from his handler had come from. There was something off about Coulson, about this whole situation, what it was though, Clint wasn’t sure. He stood quickly, his stoic expression falling easily into place as he grabbed up his own clothes and started for the bathroom, leaving the papers where they sat on the bed.  
  
“Ya know Coulson, if you’re so damned determined that we see this thing through, then maybe you’d better at least pretend that you don’t mind me bein’ your Alpha and fiancé.” Not quite slamming the bathroom door, Clint slumped back against it, head thumping off the smooth wood plane as he sighed heavily. Eyes closed, he silently prayed to any god that might be listening that they found the scientists and put an end to their schemes quickly so they could go home and pretend the whole mission never took place.

* * *

  
  
The main dining room was filled with conversation and quiet music by the time the pair got there. They paused at a table just inside the door, picking up their name tags and being instructed as to which table they were going to be sitting at. There was an air of tension between them as Clint led the way, weaving between tables before finally finding their assigned one.  
  
Two couples were already seated there and looked up, smiling warmly at them when Clint pulled the chair out for Phil like a proper gentleman. It was worth it to see the startled look flash across Phil’s face before it turned to a thanking smile and nod. He was supposed to be the doting Alpha, after all. Doting meant being affectionate and loving, right? Clint could do doting. He was great at doting. He just never really got a chance to be.  
  
Slipping into his own seat next to Phil, arm draped across the back of Phil’s chair, Clint smiled brightly to the four other people sitting around them. “Evenin’,” he nodded, glancing to their name tags quickly.  
  
There was a pair of women sitting to his left --Sandra (the Alpha, the small A in the corner of her tag denoted) and Abby (the Omega, denoted by the small O); and a mixed gender couple to the right --Randy (A) and Melanie-Jean (O). Neither couple looked to be the crazed scientist types, but then, Clint well knew how looks could be deceiving.  
  
“Oh thank God!” Abby sighed in relief, slouching in her chair a bit as she leaned into Sandra’s side, smiling across to Phil and Clint. “We were starting to think we’d be the only same sex couple here! I’m Abby Renolds-Styne, she’s Sandra Styne.”  
  
The others laughed softly, turning their eyes to Clint and Phil.  
  
“Welcome to the crazy. Hope you both know what you’ve gotten yourselves into.” Randy said, reaching around his Mate to shake Clint’s hand. “Randy Albright. This is my wife, MJ.”  
  
Clint shook Randy’s hand and offered a smile to MJ. “Clay Burton. This is my fiance’, Paul.” It felt strange using fake names; Clint was always so afraid he’d slip and blow the cover by using a real name.  
  
“Since I guess we’re the only ones at this table, maybe we should say a little bit about ourselves?” Sandra suggested, giving a small shrug that bounced Abby around a bit, causing the bubbly Omega to grin and giggle.  
  
Randy had just opened his mouth, leaning across the table, when a microphone being tapped drew the room’s attention to the front. The quiet music had stopped, giving the couple standing in front of the piano a chance to speak to their audience. To Clint, the pair looked like the overly happy kind that belonged on late night infomercials for juicers or healthy food processors or something.  
  
“Good evening, everyone,” The man welcomed, a wide smile plastered on his face as he looked around the room, a chorus of “Good evening” said back to him. “My name is Kip Rudyard and this is my beautiful Mate and wife, Alexandra,”  
  
Clint rolled his eyes as he leaned in closer to Phil, head turned so he could whisper into his ear. “And I thought Paul Clarkson sounded like a fake name,” the comment earned him a quick, sharp jab to the ribs.  
  
“We’d like to welcome you all to what we hope will be an enlightening and fun retreat. For our married couples, you’ll be reminded why you fell in love with your Mate in the first place and hopefully the spark that might have maybe been starting to flicker will be reignited anew. And for our engaged couples, we hope that your time spent here will help to solidify your commitment to each other, bring you closer, and better prepare you for that wonderful day when you swear the rest of your lives to each other.”  
  
Clint shifted in his seat at Kip’s words. Stealing a quick glance around the room, he frowned slightly as he watched most of the other couples present turn to smile at each other, or lean in closer, the Omegas ducking their heads to tuck under their Alpha’s chin. Looking to Phil, he was met by the sight of him staring down at his lap, cell phone already doing background scans of their tablemates, completely oblivious to what was happening around him.  
  
Sighing, Clint turned his attention back to the leaders of the retreat just as Alexandra stepped forward.  
  
“There is going to be plenty for us to do these next five days. We’re going to take part in team work activities, help to build better communication between couples and teach ways to have disagreements without them turning into hurtful fights. There will be trust exercises and yes, even times where we’re going to ask you to share things about your lives.” She paused to smile, nodding in sympathy as the audience lightheartedly groaned at the thought of _sharing feelings_. “To start things off, we’d like to ask all the Omegas to step to the back of the room where a table is set up. We’d like for you to write down your favorite memory of your honeymoon, or trip you and your intended Mate have taken together. Omegas, if you’d like to go do that now please?”  
  
There was laughter and chatter as the chairs were pushed back from tables and the Omegas from each couple slipped to the table in the back. All but Phil, who was still staring down at his phone, frowning in concentration. Clint turned to face him, very much aware of the others watching them, awkwardly smiling to each other and apologetically to Clint. Giving a sheepish smile of his own, he nudged Phil’s shoulder.  
  
“Really, Babe? Take you to the middle of nowhere and still you’re glued to work?” He teased, though his tone was tense and embarrassed, his chuckle just slightly off from true.  
  
Phil’s head shot up, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked around at all the people heading for the back of the room.  
  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
  
“You. Still glued to work. You’re supposed to go in the back and write down your favorite memory from a trip we’ve taken together.” Clint gave him a pointed stare, wordlessly reminding him that they may be on a mission, but they were still supposed to be trying to fit in.  
  
Pink rose up to the tips of Phil’s ears as he pocketed his phone and moved to stand. “Sorry. Guess I got distracted.”  
  
“Alphas, while your Mates are off doing that, you’ll notice we’ve placed three cards on each table, one for each couple. Deciding amongst yourselves how to do it, you will ask each other the questions on the sheet, and then in a few minutes we’ll go around the room and you will introduce the couple at the table you interviewed.”  
  
Clint stared down at the card in front of him. The questions didn’t look that terrible. He could handle making up some of the information without Coulson around. Not like he’d help answer them anyway.  
  
Sandra interviewed Randy, Randy interviewed Clint, and Clint Sandra. It was actually pretty interesting learning about these other people, these other couples. Real couples, with real memories of each other and a real history together. It was easy enough for Clint to make things up on the fly, or tweak actual information so as not to give themselves away, and for a minute, Clint was able to forget they weren’t an actual couple.  
  
It wasn’t like the questions were all that invasive to begin with. Names (Clay and Paul), how long had they been together (known each other fifteen years, only been a couple for six months), when’s the wedding (still haven’t decided yet), any pups (nope), occupations (architect and real estate lawyer). Clint had to admit it was amusing to watch Phil out of the corner of his eye as Randy introduced them. The way he shifted uncomfortably and his eyes widened just slightly at the mention of how long they really had known each other. Yeah, fifteen years was a long time. Especially when fourteen of those years were spent developing a crush on your only friend and allowing it to slow boil into a full out love for them.  
  
Somehow, Clint had the feeling that spending the next five days pretending to be a couple was going to feel ten times longer than all those years wishing they were.

* * *

  
  
“Clay! Paul! Wait up!”  
  
Clint turned, hands in his cargo pants pockets, and watched as Abby and Sandra came bounding across the dark lawn towards them. Supper had finished just a few minutes before, everyone dismissed to do as they pleased or to regroup out on the lake shore for the bonfire. From the looks of things, Clint and Phil were the only ones walking away from the beach.  
  
“Hey,” He greeted, reaching out to catch Phil’s elbow and draw his attention to the company they had approaching.  
  
Abby bounced her way over to them, grabbing Clint’s wrist once she was within reach. “C’mon! You guys have to go to the bonfire! They’re gonna read off the memories the Omegas wrote down and then the Alphas have to see if they recognize it as being their trip together.”  
  
Mouth opened to answer, Clint was ready to turn the pair away, an excuse as to why they were heading back to their cottage right on the tip of his tongue when he was stopped by an arm slipping around his waist. The hand that settled on his hip firm and broad and he knew there was a callous on the trigger finger that probably caught and snagged on his shirt.  
  
“I told you we should go to the bonfire,” Phil teased, leaning in against Clint’s side heavily. “Sorry, we had a really long drive to get here, though. Not to mention kind of a hectic day to begin with. Clay’s idea to skip the bonfire and just hit the sack.”  
  
The two women coo’d, smiling at them both.  
  
“That’s so cute,” Sandra slipped her own arm around her Mate’s waist, gently prying her away from the pair. “That’s completely understandable. We’ll see you both in the morning for breakfast?”  
  
Abby grinned, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Providing they get out of bed in time for breakfast.”  
  
Suggestive? Oh Clint could definitely do suggestive. With a lecherous smirk in place, he leaned in towards the women, thumbing over his shoulder towards Phil. “Why do you think it was such a hectic day? He wouldn’t let me out of bed until it was nearly time to leave.”  
  
“Actually,” Phil cut in, not even skipping a beat, “I was trying to tell you we were going to have to leave soon, so hurry up.”  
  
“Oh. Is that what all that ‘faster, Clay, faster’ was about?” Asked Clint, a genuine look of curiosity on his face. “Huh.”  
  
Sharing a grin and giggle, Abby and Sandra nudged each other once before giving Clint and Phil a wave.  
  
“We’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Sandra stated, taking Abby’s hand to pull her off towards the bonfire.  
  
Watching them leave, Clint waited before they were out of sight before he turned to start back off for the cottage. He didn’t frown at all when Phil’s arm dropped from his waist and the man put a couple inches of space between them again. At least Phil had finally joined in on the act. Clint was starting to wonder if he’d have to do all the acting himself.  
  
“What did you write down for your favorite memory?” Clint finally questioned as they stepped into the small cottage, locking the door behind them.  
  
Phil shrugged as he breezed by, moving for the bedroom, phone back in hand. “I don’t remember.” The answer was clearly a brush off; Clint really didn’t believe him for a minute. “I need to get these names sent to the Hub. They can run backgrounds on the guests faster than my phone can.”  
  
Clint stood in the doorway to the bedroom, arms folded over his chest and a skeptical look on his face. He watched him grab the laptop off the chair in the corner, plug it in and start it up before turning to pull the USB cord from his bag. With a huff, Clint pushed himself off the door frame and moved in closer.  
  
“Hey, Coulson. Look...I don’t know what I did wrong, but we’ve gotta work together on this. So...whatever it is I did, tell me so we can--”  
  
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Barton,”  
  
“Then _why_ are you treating me like I just showed you solid proof that Superman could kick the shit out of Captain America?”  
  
Phil’s head lifted at that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and a scoff falling from his lips. “What? No he couldn’t. Superman’s just a comic book character. Captain America was a real person.”  
  
That earned a chuckle and helped to ease some of the tension out of Clint’s shoulders. He flopped himself down into the chair under the window, feet kicked up on the small table beside it. “I love how that’s your argument for that.” He chuckled again, shaking his head. “No, but really, Boss. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since we left the carrier this afternoon. What’s going on?”  
  
Clint watched as the fight left Phil’s shoulders, leaving him hunched over the laptop and looking completely out of sorts. It was a little unnerving to see him look so deflated and for a moment he regretted asking.  
  
“I’m sorry, Barton,” Phil answered, lifting his head and giving him a partial smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “I’m not supposed to be off my suppressants yet, and I have to be for this mission,”  
  
No. _Now_ Clint regretted asking.  
  
“It’s been throwing me for a loop. You’re right. I have been giving you the cold shoulder. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”  
  
Clint dropped his feet to the floor and shoved himself out of the chair, patting Phil’s shoulder gently as he moved to where his duffel had been left. “Hey, don’t worry about it. This isn’t exactly an easy mission for either of us. We’ll get through it. At least now I don’t have to go around wondering what I fucked up to make you kind of hate me a bit.”  
  
“Not yet, at least.”  
  
Laughing, Clint turned to toss his bag on the bed and stopped. An envelope sat on one pillow, a long stem red rose and note sat on the other. How the hell they’d missed that before, he didn’t know. He abandoned his duffel in favor of picking up the rose first. The sweet scent of the flower, mixed with the already amazing scent that Phil was gently giving off, was enough to make Clint ache inside. Eyes closed, he allowed himself just the briefest moment of a fantasy involving Phil, the bed, and possibly a ton more rose petals scattered everywhere --a fire crackling in the fireplace next to the bed and smooth skin sliding slick over each other as he ---  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
Phil’s voice over his shoulder startled him from the daydream. Turning quickly, his pulse already racing, Clint swallowed thickly and shook his head, handing the flower and note off to Phil before moving to grab the envelope off the other pillow, putting a bit of space between them. “I dunno. They uh, they were apparently sitting here when we got back.”  
  
He cleared his throat, forcing his mind off the little fantasy and back to what they were doing. The mission. Had to focus on the mission. The envelope in hand, he frowned when he saw the words “For Alpha’s Eyes Only”. Clint was never one for confidentiality. He tore the side off, frowning when a tiny object fell to his feet. Leaving it for the time being, Clint pulled the small note inside free to read over silently.  
  
 _Remember the excitement? The butterflies? So does your Omega. At some point during your stay, surprise the love of your life by proposing all over again._  
  
 _~Kip and Alexandra_  
  
Glancing down to the floor, he stooped to pick the tiny quarter machine ring up. Purple and silver, it shone brightly in his palm as he stared down at it. Was this place for real? Were they expecting them? _Duh, yeah, you registered for it, of course they were._ But why purple? Of all the colors of crappy ass, cheap tin rings, the one he was expected to give to Phil was _purple_.  
  
Beside him, Phil scoffed softly, tossing the note back down on the bed. “We’re apparently welcomed to the retreat and encouraged to be ‘open and loving’ with each other.” He called over his shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom, the rose still in hand.  
  
Clint’s eyes widened. Scanning the note, handwritten in beautiful calligraphy, he nearly swallowed his tongue at that. “So, in other words, ‘Welcome to the retreat, feel free to screw like it’s mating season while you’re here’?”  
  
“I don’t think I’d put it quite like that,” Phil answered, stepping back into the bedroom, the rose cut again and settled in a small plastic cup of water. There was a faint smile playing at Phil’s lips that softened his face and made Clint forget his own name for a moment. The rose placed on one nightstand, Phil turned to take the note from Clint’s hand. “What was in the envelope?”    
  
Shaking his head, Clint waved him off as he tossed the ring to the nightstand as well. “Aw, just some sappy thing that doesn’t apply to us. Though at some point, put that on a chain or something, doubt it’ll fit your finger.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Sappy shit. Pretend I proposed to you all over again. If anyone asks, feel free to make the second proposal whatever you want.”  
  
Silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. Clint watched the muscle in Phil’s jaw work for a moment, as if he was trying to come up with something to say about Clint’s reaction to the idea of proposing “again”, but wasn’t able to. Clint could think of a hundred and one ways he could ask Phil to marry him and be his Omega. Not that it mattered since there was no way Phil would actually say yes to that. He worked too hard to get to where he was in seniority at SHIELD, Clint knew Phil would never throw that away. Especially not to roll over, submit, show his belly and actually allow himself to be someone’s Omega.  
  
Phil stepped away from the bed. The tension seemed to have settled back into the line across his shoulders, making Clint instantly regret having opened his mouth in the first place.  
  
"Right," said Phil, plugging his phone into the laptop to send SHIELD the file he'd jotted down during supper with all the names and approximate ages of everyone there for the retreat. "I'll take the left side of the bed."  
  
Clint nodded, not about to argue with him on that. He usually slept on the right side of his bed to begin with, and Lord knew Clint wasn't about to comment on the fact the right side was closer to the door, putting him in the protector position. The instinctive Alpha part of him swelled and soared at that. He was going to get to protect his O-- Coulson! He was going to get to protect Coulson.  
  
“Not gonna hear any complaints from me.”

* * *

  
  
Despite having shared beds together for various missions in the past, Clint found it impossible to sleep on that semi-comfortable Queen mattress with Phil laid out alongside him. Warm, solid body next to him, swathed in sleeper bottoms, an old, sinfully soft looking, thin T-shirt, and all the blankets pulled up just to the small of his back.  
  
And what kind of cruel twist of fate was it that Clint forgot Phil slept on his stomach?  
  
Sleep was not something that happened for Clint the first night. A long cold shower in the middle of the night when he was sure Phil was good and truly asleep? Yes. But not sleep.  
  
He was terrified of what he might do if he fell asleep next to Phil now.  


* * *

  
  
Given that Clint did not hardly sleep at all the night before, it was easy enough for him to be up, showered, dressed and ready to go for breakfast by the time Phil had even started to stir. From his vantage point sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, Clint had an unobstructed view straight into the bedroom, and was able to watch, unnoticed, as Phil began to shift and stretch under the covers. It wasn’t the instant awake like Phil usually did on missions; this was the slow, reluctant type, the kind where it’s obvious he was weighing the pros and cons of getting up.  
  
When the pros must have finally outweighed the cons, Phil pushed himself upright, a quiet little groan escaping him as he stretched his arms and back carefully. His hair stuck up in places from sleep and Clint couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Phil looked so soft and vulnerable in those moments, he wanted to crawl into bed and wrap himself around him.  
  
God that thought could lead to madness.  
  
Clint dropped his arm over his eyes, head turned so he’d be looking straight up at the ceiling, pretending he hadn’t just creepily watched his handler wake up. He lifted his hand and waved weakly when he heard Phil call his name from the doorway. Maybe he could catch a quick cat-nap while Phil was taking a shower and getting ready…  
  
“You feeling alright, Barton?” Phil questioned, stepping up to the couch and putting a hand to Clint’s forehead. “I don’t think you’ve ever been the first to wake up.”  
  
Swatting his hand away, Clint flipped his feet back down to the floor and stood up, shrugging as he went. “It’s a nice morning. Thought I’d get an early start to the day. Went for a run, shower, all that good stuff. Just waitin’ on you so we can go eat.”  
  
Phil stepped back to give Clint space to stretch and move a bit, and the fact that Phil’s eyes seemed to track his movements when he reached towards the ceiling and bent back a little was not lost to Clint. Of course, neither was the sudden waft of Omega pheromones that filled the air, hitting Clint like a brick to the stomach. The unexpected scent that was the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced and sucked the breath right out of his lungs. It was still Phil, but just _more_. Some poet somewhere down the line could probably say Phil’s scent in that moment went from “being like you walked past a flower shop to being inside with your head stuck inside a bouquet.” Only he didn’t smell like _flowers_ , he smelled like _Phil_. Like _Omega_ and Want and Need, competence and gunpowder and countless missions that went tits up before they even started but came out alright in the end all because of Phil, and UNGH!  
  
Scrambling to put distance between them, Phil and Clint both stammered excuses as to why they needed to be in separate areas of the cottage. Clint deciding he really needed to check to see if SHIELD had come up with anything for the list of guests they’d sent, and Phil desperately needing that shower so they could go eat --he was starving!  
  
When the bathroom door shut tight and the lock clicked into place, Clint bounced his head lightly off the door jam. Maybe he could get someone to bust his nose so he couldn’t smell anymore. That’d be a lot safer than not being able to hold it together around his boss any longer.  


* * *

  
  
They managed to get through most of breakfast as relatively normal as possible. There wasn’t much awkward tension between them, but neither Clint nor Phil were overly willing to meet and keep eye contact for very long. Other couples from the retreat smiled politely to them as they passed in line for the breakfast buffet, some chuckling at the sight of Clint’s plate piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon --not to mention two cups of coffee balanced in his other hand--, and others just simply giving a nod of hello.  
  
SHIELD hadn’t gotten back to them yet about any of the guests, so for the time being, they were to remain observant and take note of anything that might have seemed out of place. To Clint, that didn’t really seem to narrow things down any.  
  
He was just starting in on his bacon-wrapped-eggs when Sandra and Abby dropped down at the table across from them. Both women were grinning from ear to ear, and stared at them like they knew the biggest secret in the world and were dying to spill it. When neither Clint nor Phil took the bait, Sandra was the first to break.  
  
“You guys really took a trip to Barcelona --” She started, getting cut off by her overly excitable Mate.  
  
“And spent the entire time arguing over whether peanuts were better than pistachios?”  
  
The eggs dropped from Clint’s fork. Eyes wide, he turned to Phil just in time to see him cough his coffee into his napkin.  
  
“H-how,” Phil paused, cleared his throat, and continued on, ignoring Clint’s stare, “How’d you--”  
  
“You guys were the only ones not at the bonfire last night,” Sandra explained, a simple shrug to her lean shoulder as if it were an obvious explanation. “Process of elimination.”  
  
Clint could do nothing but sit and stare at Phil. Watch him duck his head and cut his pancakes into precise little triangles and act as if there was nothing wrong. Which there wasn’t, exactly. Except for the fact Phil really had been lying to him when he’d asked what memory he’d written down. And why that one? Of all the memories of missions they’d gone on together, why _that one_?  
  
A tap of a fork on the table in front of him drew Clint’s attention back to the couple across from them. Sandra was already starting to stand, pulling at Abby’s arm gently.  
  
“Hey, you better get a move on,” stated Abby, reaching across to pluck a tiny piece of bacon off Clint’s plate before it fell to the table, “that lecture thing starts in twenty minutes.”  
  
“Want us to save you guys seats?” Sandra asked.  
  
Phil nodded and thanked them quietly, promising that they’d meet them in the conference room just as soon as they’d finished breakfast.  
  
Clint barely waited for them to be gone before he turned his attention back to Phil, his breakfast momentarily forgotten. “ _That_ was the memory you put down?”  
  
Phil shrugged. “It was the only thing I could think of that wasn’t a horrible mission.”  
  
“It was a _terrible_ mission!” Clint stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “I was shot in the leg! I nearly bled out! You had to drag my dying ass halfway across the city just to make sure we didn’t miss our extraction. Told me if I died you were going to find a way to revive me just so you could put me on report and suspend my sorry ass!”  
  
Of course, there had been the banter and arguments about peanuts versus pistachios. And the fact Clint vaguely remembered Phil going off on the medic in charge about something, probably about Clint, and might have maybe heard Phil tell someone he wasn’t moving until Clint was awake again. By that time though, Clint had lost so much blood and was on so many painkillers, they could have told him the Heffalumps and Woozles were marching in parade around him and he would have thought it was true.  
  
Again, Phil shrugged, giving a noncommittal hum but nothing more.  
  
Slightly disgusted by Phil’s lack of response, Clint grabbed up his fork to stab at his breakfast, piercing the eggs and bacon with more force than necessary. He dropped it back down with a clatter though, when another thought struck him.  
  
“That was _six years_ ago!”  
  
“So?”  
  
“So, you’re telling me in the time since then, you’ve had no other really memorable missions with me?”  
  
Phil sighed, shoving his plate away. He grabbed his own cup of coffee and had it down in two gulps, just in time for Alexandra to appear in the door and ask all remaining couples to start making their way to the conference room. Without a word, Phil pushed his chair out and turned to stalk out of the room, leaving Clint to grumble behind him.  
  
He didn’t get any sleep, and now no breakfast.  
  
At least not much of one.  
  
Grabbing a pancake off the buffet as he walked by, Clint rolled it like a little burrito and stuffed it into his mouth, washing it down with what was left of his coffee. If his stomach happened to growl and gurgle during the presentation, then it was Phil’s fault. Not his.

* * *

  
  
The hours that followed seemed to drag on for ever after that. The lecture on how to “Deal with Life and Love” was probably the most awkward two hours Clint had ever spent watching a PowerPoint presentation (and that’s including the time he sat through Sitwell’s vacation slides from his “Quest to Find the Perfect Burger” trip). It was too much like a briefing, honestly, and Clint always spent his time during those playing Angry Birds Star Wars on his phone, or swapping obnoxious texts with Stark. He wasn’t allowed to do that this time. He had to pretend to pay attention.  
  
It would have been fine if they hadn’t started in on tips and shit for keeping your Mate happy, _inside and outside_ of the bedroom. Clint really hoped Phil felt even a third as awkward as he did during that section. The other couples all kept swapping glances with each other, smirking like they’d been given new ideas and couldn’t wait to sneak away to try them out. Clint wanted to slink under his chair and start digging his way to China.  
  
By the time the presentation was over, Clint was about to go nuts from sensory overload. As an unbound Alpha, his sense of smell was heightened more than that of the bound ones. He’d been able to pick up on the shift in pheromones when the Omegas saw or heard something they really enjoyed. And having to sit so close to Coulson --an unbound Omega, fresh off suppressants-- only made it worse.  
  
There was an hour break for lunch before the next activity was to take place, the ice breaker games which Clint really had no desire to take part in. Instead of using that hour to finally go get some food, though, he bolted for their cottage as soon as he left the conference room. No explanation, no warning, he just ran. He didn’t even know if Phil followed him or not. Not that it mattered, not really anyway. He wanted to think that Phil might be concerned about him running off like that, but he wasn’t going to count on it.  
  
Ultimately, Clint wanted a nap. He wanted to throw himself down on the bed, sleep for forty-five minutes, and then make his way back out to the others for the rest of the activities. What he hadn’t planned on doing, was taking a twenty minute shower. His right arm braced on the wall, forehead rested on top of it while his left hand worked to bring himself off as quickly and quietly as possible.  
  
Despite feeling more relaxed when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, he still felt skeezy for having just jerked off in the shower to begin with. He wasn’t a saint by any means, but Clint had always liked to think that he was able to keep it together better than he had. It was really pretty embarrassing, but really, there was only so much an unbound Alpha could take before they snapped, right?  
  
It was better not to think about that. He still had twenty-five minutes, he could grab a quick nap in that time and be ready to go again.

* * *

  
  
Clint startled awake to the smell of roast beef. Eyes snapping open, he bolted upright, nearly knocking the plate from Coulson's hand in the process. It felt like he hadn't slept at all and yet slept a hundred years all at once. That groggy, disorienting kind of feeling that made him feel worse instead of better. He turned to face Phil, blinking blearily at the plate of food. His stomach graciously reminding him he missed breakfast and lunch.  
  
With a groan, his eyes closed again as he ran a hand down his face and then back up through his hair. "What time is it?"  
  
"About twelve forty-five,"  
  
Cracking open an eye, Clint stared at the sandwich before looking back up to Phil. "Is that for me?"  
  
A smug smirk crossed Phil's face as he shrugged, taking a step closer to the bed for Clint to get a better look of the thinly sliced beef piled high on a fresh baked sourdough bun. There were even two small chocolate chip cookies setting beside it.  
  
"This might be for you, if you can eat and walk at the same time."  
  
Slipping back into his sneakers, Clint pushed himself off the bed. "That is a stupid question. Of course I can." He plucked the sandwich from the plate, followed by a cookie that he promptly shoved into his mouth, despite Phil's eye roll of disapproval.  
  
Clint just smirked and shrugged as he started for the door. The cookie was good, a little dry, but the juicy and succulent sandwich well made up for that. He had to lick au jus sauce off his hand, little driblets trickled down his chin with each bite. His actions were probably borderline obscene, but if they weren't enough, his groan and whines of happiness as he walked alongside Phil eating were.  
  
"Mm, you are the best. I mean it. Absolute best." He groaned as he bit into the sandwich another time. "Seriously! I could kiss ya! Bringing me food like that. It's too kind of you. Almost like you--"  
  
Clint's words choked off as a light bulb turned on over his head. He could remember in the circus the Omegas with Mates, or even just potential ones, would offer their Alpha what was left of their meals. A sign of acceptance of them and a way to say, "See? I'm good. I'm good at taking care of people. Wouldn't I make a good Mate?" Beside him, Phil's ears burned pink, mouth pressed tight in a thin line. It was obvious he wasn't going to touch on the matter, so neither would Clint. Especially since it was ridiculous to think that would ever be Phil's reason behind doing it. No, Phil brought him a sandwich because Clint had hardly eaten at all. Not because he was accepting Clint and trying to show just how good of a Mate he could be.  
  
Phil didn’t say a word as they finished their short walk, meeting the other couples just as Kip was about to welcome them to their first Ice Breaker game. Not that Clint was expecting Phil to talk, but the utter silence and awkwardness coming off the man was making it difficult for Clint to think properly. It was so disorienting having Phil act like a quiet, shy Omega and he wondered if that’s how Phil was growing up, if that was how he’d act when he was off his suppressants normally, or if this was all just an act for their cover.  
  
They paused when they came up next to Sandra and Abby, having decided the pair made for decent enough company. Not to mention, Clint thought it was pretty awesome the way Abby seemed to not give a rat’s ass about what anyone thought of her or her Mate. She was open with her affections and oblivious to naysayers. If Clint weren’t already completely head over heels in love with Phil, and if Abby were single, he might have maybe considered her. Then again, it was possible they were just a bit too alike in personalities.  
  
The rest of the couples all milled about, listening as Kip explained the games they would be playing in order to break the ice, loosen everyone up, and to help build teamwork between the couples. Clint kept his eyes open, scanning over people’s faces, trying to look for the most and least suspicious pairs. He’d learned a long time ago that it was often times the people you least suspected that would turn out being the ones holding the knife in your back in the end.  
  
Margot and Francois Mitterrand stood at the top of his mental list. Everything about them seemed fake. From their names down to Margot’s hair color. They were shifty, a nervous type. Francois had a constant pinched expression to his long, thin face; while Margot was always fidgeting and looking around, never able to be still. There was definitely something up with them. They were just plain weird.  
  
On the flipside to those two, though, were the couple Clint and Phil had met the night before. Randy and MJ. They definitely seemed the least suspicious, and that’s what made them Clint’s primary focus. Both of them just seemed so _perfect_. Randy had the great dark blond hair and Steve Rogers good looks about him and seemed at ease with literally everything. MJ was pretty, petite, and quite obviously worshipped the ground her Mate walked on. The stereotypical picture of the perfect Omega. In fact, Clint wasn’t sure _why_ they would even be at a couple’s retreat.  
  
Margot and Francois? Yeah, Clint could definitely see that. Hell, Margot jumped when Francois touched her shoulder, so, that made sense.  
  
Randy and MJ? Not so much.  
  
As Kip continued to talk, Clint leaned into Phil’s side and nodded off towards the second couple. “I think we should keep our eyes on them,” He murmured, keeping his voice low. “Something seems off ‘bout ‘em.”  
  
Phil nodded in acknowledgement, but kept his eyes glued to the two retreat leaders.  
  
It wasn’t hard to try and get a feel for the rest of the guests during the games. They did exactly what Kip and Alexandra promised and loosened everyone up around each other. Notecards with names were taped to everyone’s backs, forcing everyone to interact with each other to gain clues about who their celebrity couple was; Clint was Todd Spiewa, Phil was Jim Parsons, and neither of them knew who those guys were at all. Following that, each Omega was handed a container of Reddi Whip, a plastic spoon, and another small container and instructed to pretend to “shave” their Alpha’s face. The first to scrape all the whipped cream off their Mate’s face with the spoon won. Ultimately, Margot and Francois won, but only because everyone else --Phil and Clint included-- were too busy laughing over themselves and over Abby’s antics with Sandra. Clint tried not to let it get to him while Phil was playing along and at least attempted to scrape the whipped cream off his cheeks. It was awkward and intimate and definitely put ideas into his head about all the other things they could do with that container of Reddi Whip.  
  
By the time the ice breaker games were over, Clint’s sides and face hurt from all the laughing he’d been doing and he swore he’d never seen Phil smile so much in all the years they’d known each other. It was nice. It was also incredibly easy to forget they were on a mission. Clint had to remind himself that and shake the rest of his thoughts away.  
  
With everyone relaxed, it was easy to transition into the next required activity. Clint was no stranger to trust exercises, they were a basic part of SHIELD training and refresher courses, plus, there was no one he trusted more than Phil. Excluding Natasha.  
  
“Alright couples,” Alexandra called, drawing everyone’s attention back to her and her husband, “These next few exercises are meant to help you to relax around your Mate again. If you would each stand facing each other?”  
  
Clint turned so he was face to face with Phil, standing at such an angle that they could both see what was happening behind the other.  
  
“First, is a proximity exercise. Each person take two steps back, putting distance between you and your partner,” Kip explained, his voice that weird calm tone, as if he were leading a meditation instead of a trust exercise.  
  
Around him, the couples all took steps back. Some people chuckled under their breaths, feeling a bit ridiculous, while others actually whimpered at having so much space between them and their mate. Clint’s brow quirked as he watched Randy’s head turn just a bit at the whimpers. His eyes scanning the other guests thoughtfully.  
  
“Some of you whimpered, that’s good!” Alexandra smiled as she slowly walked around the outside of their little group. “Having space between you and your mate, you felt that pull and innate need to be close to them again. Maybe that’s something you forgot at some point in your relationship, or have just pushed aside in your busy day-to-day lives,”  
  
Clint wanted to roll his eyes, to make a smartass comment about how hokey that sort of thing was, and he would have, if it weren’t for the fact he’d had to bite back his own whimper at being separated from Phil. Which was really just ridiculous since they weren’t even Mates, they didn’t have a Bond that connected them the way the others had, and yet there was this deep need to get back to Phil, pull him in close and keep him tucked under his chin, safe and sound.  
  
Kip picked up where his wife had left off. “Now, slowly, take two steps forward again, putting you back just about where you started off at.”  
  
It was like watching magnets come together, everyone moving for their partner instantly until there was a foot of space between them again. Tension wrapped around Clint’s chest as he was just close enough to reach out and touch Phil, but wasn’t allowed to. They were told to do this four more times, each time putting more and more space between the partners only to have them come back together all the closer in the end. By the time they were finished, Clint and Phil were standing close enough that Clint could count the smattering of freckles across Phil’s nose and feel the warm, soft puffs of breath coming from him.  
  
Clint’s heart was beating fast and his body ached to close that last half inch between them and just kiss Phil stupid. Especially once he realized Phil’s breathing was slightly heavier than usual, his bright eyes darkened just a bit.  
  
“Good,” said Kip, weaving his way between the couples, “these next two shouldn’t be difficult. For the next sixty seconds, without touching, just maintain eye contact with your Mate. Think back to that first relaxed conversation you shared, how you couldn’t take your eyes off each other.”  
  
Swallowing thickly, Clint took a breath and lifted his eyes to meet Phil’s. He could definitely remember their first relaxed conversation. It’d been years ago, after a successful mission. Somehow they’d started bantering on the transport from extraction point to headquarter, and when they stepped off the Quinjet, it just hadn’t stopped. Clint had followed Phil all the way back to his office, dropped himself in the chair in front of Phil’s desk and just stared him in the eyes the whole rest of their conversation, becoming more and more animated as the night dragged on. It was the night Clint admitted to himself that he might have had a crush on his handler.  
  
Something strange seemed to come across Phil’s eyes as they stood practically nose to nose, but just as soon as Clint thought he might have seen it, it was gone. The protective shutters falling back into place until time was called.  
  
Sixty seconds was a lifetime when you weren’t allowed to look away from the one thing you wanted but knew you could never have.  
  
“Alright now, Omegas, take your Alpha’s hands. Don’t break eye contact. Just hold their hand in yours and have a conversation without any words.”  
  
Tingles went up Clint’s arms, across his shoulders and drew the breath right out of him when Phil’s fingers brushed gently across the backs of his hands, sliding across his skin until Phil could take a firm but tender hold. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. Phil’s thumbs rested directly over his pulse point and brushed soft circles over the sensitive underside of his wrists. Clint’s heart jumped and he was sure Phil could feel the sudden jolt through his wrists.  
  
In the background, Kip and Alexandra went on about touch and eye contact being an important part of any relationship. That all too often couples will drift apart due to a lack of one or the other. They encouraged everyone to make sure they incorporated touch into their everyday lives with their Mates: a gentle touch across the shoulder, a lingering brush on the lower back, and most especially important for the Alpha’s to clasp their Omega by the nape as reassurance and claiming as often as once a day.  
  
Clint thought about what that would be like, to be able to sit with Phil on the couch at night, rubbing his arms and trailing his fingers up to stroke along the scruff of his neck. What kind of quiet, pleased noises would Phil make if he did that? Would he start to instantly relax against him like the movies showed? He thought about grasping Phil’s nape, a firm and grounding hold that radiated love and protection.  
  
Without meaning to, Clint dropped his gaze from Phil’s eyes to his lips. So close. Close enough that Clint could feel Phil’s warm breath. All it would take was just half a step closer, a slight tilt of his head. He swallowed hard, tongue flicking out to wet his lips, eyes glancing back up just in time to watch Phil follow the quick movement.  
  
Throwing caution to the wind, Clint shifted his stance, put himself that much closer and let his eyes fall halfway shut as he leaned in.  
  
“...Clint…” Phil’s voice was breathless, Clint’s name hardly even a whisper on the sharp exhale. It was gorgeous and perfect sounding coming from him. Clint was sure he’d never liked hearing his name as much as he did hearing it come from Phil in such a way. He moved in, lips just getting ready to brush over lips…  
  
...when the spell was broken.  
  
Alexandra gave a short clap, snapping Clint’s mind back, making him take a full step back and a deep breath, quickly looking away from Phil. His hands still tingled from where Phil had been holding them, and Clint had to stuff them in his pockets to keep anyone from noticing the way they were trembling. He swallowed hard and looked back up as they were dismissed for supper and encouraged to regroup on the lawn later for a relaxing “movie date”.  
  
Clint settled himself down with a few deep, calm breaths before he turned back to Phil. It wasn’t lost on him that there was pink creeping up Phil’s ears, or that he really didn’t seem to want to meet Clint’s eyes at the moment. All around them, the other couples split off to go their own ways, holding hands and leaning close to each other as they walked off either for their cottages or to go eat, leaving just the two of them standing on the lawn.  
  
Stepping forward again, Clint gently took Phil’s hand in his, linking their fingers together. It was all part of the act, he reminded himself.  
  
“Hey,” He squeezed Phil’s hand, drawing his attention. “You okay?”  
  
Indecision seemed to cross Phil’s face before it was brushed aside with a nod and pleasantly bland smile. “Yeah. I’m okay. Let’s go eat. Afterwards, we’ll go back to the cabin and see if the analysts have gotten anything back for us on backgrounds for these people.”  
  
Phil’s hand remained in Clint’s as they turned to start off for the restaurant, passing up the main dining room in favor of something a bit more relaxed and laid back.  
  
“We should probably go to that movie tonight, too,”  
  
Clint turned his head quickly, giving Phil a surprised and confused look. Phil shrugged and Clint wasn’t sure if it was the fading sunlight playing tricks or if Phil really was blushing. There was a small crease to Phil’s forehead that Clint wanted to smooth over gently with his thumb and kiss until it melted away.  
  
“We didn’t go to the bonfire last night, it would be suspicious if we didn’t go to the movie tonight.”  
  
“Ah,” Clint nodded. That made sense. Still though, he couldn’t fight the urge to nudge at Phil’s shoulder with his own and smirk suggestively. “I dunno though, who’s to say Clay and Paul wouldn’t decide since they’re finally away from it all to use any and all opportunity to hop into bed together? That note on the flower did say to be as ‘open and loving’ as possible.”  
  
Phil turned to level Clint with an exasperated stare.  
  
“Mission, Barton. We need to keep an eye on these people. Any one of these couples could be AIM.”    
  
Clint nodded again but remained silent as they continued their walk. Nothing quite like being reminded this was all just an act to try and catch the baddies to put a damper on Clint’s mood. His subtle change went unnoticed by Phil.  
  
“Depending on what the analysts have for us, we should start setting up surveillance and get information fed back to the Hub as soon as possible. Right now, we have four couples that could potentially--”  
  
“Four?” questioned Clint, his forehead scrunched in confusion.  
  
Phil nodded. “Kip and Alexandra, Margot and Francois, Randy and MJ, and Sandra and Abby.”  
  
Clint drew up short, letting go of Phil’s hand. He stared, wide eyed, at him. “Sandra and Abby? You really think--”  
  
“Friends close, enemies closer,” Phil shrugged like it was nothing at all. In a way, it sort of made sense, but at the same time, Clint didn’t want to think that bubbly Abby could be an AIM Idiot. He didn’t want to have to put her down. She was sweet, if not a little obnoxiously outgoing.  
  
Frowning, he gave a nod and followed Phil into the casual restaurant. Which was apparently where four of the seven other couples had decided to eat supper, as well. Including three of their couples in question. Clint stepped up next to Phil again, his hand slipping down to link their fingers together. He squeezed gently, giving a little tug to motion off towards the table the others were sitting on, just as Sandra spotted them and called them over.  
  
“Paul! Clay! Come join us!”  
  
With easy smiles in place, the pair weaved their way through the tables coming to a stop just shy of the others to give every time to rearrange and make room for them. Once settled and their drinks and meals ordered, Clint shifted to drop his arm around the back of Phil’s chair, his hand resting lightly on his shoulder.  
  
“So, gentlemen,” Kip smiled, leaning forward in a show of interest, “tell us about yourselves. Aside from what we heard about you both last night.”  
  
Alexandra nodded, her own smile bright and inviting. “Yes, please? You two have known each other for fifteen years but have only been a couple for six months? How in the world did you not get together sooner?”  
  
With a shrug, Clint shifted a bit closer to Phil. “Well,” he started, “when I met Paul I was sort of this angry kid. I was only nineteen at the time. A mutual friend of ours hauled me along with him one day, said there was someone I was suppose to meet who would help me get my shit together.” Clint paused, casting Phil a fond look and smile before he continued on.  
  
“Paul’d only been out of law school a couple of years, we met, spent a couple of years only half associating with each other and even then it was only because of our mutual friend. He was busy with trying to prove an Omega could make it to a status of power without sleeping their way to the top, and I was busy admiring him and pining for him from afar while getting my act straight and hoping that I could one day be good enough to at least ask him out for a drink.”  
  
The others at the table smiled softly in appreciation for Clint’s tale, easily believing him because, it was true. All of it. Well, Phil’d been fresh out of the military instead of law school, but they didn’t need to know that. Ducking his head a bit, he cast another glance in Phil’s direction and felt his throat tighten under Phil’s gaze. Behind the mask of fond remembrance was the truly surprised questioning.  
  
Looking back up, Clint’s bright smile fell back into place, his arm tightening around Phil’s shoulders to draw him in closer. “Finally got my act together, asked him out for that drink, and by the end of the night I’d asked him to marry me.”  
  
“And you said ‘yes’? Just like that?” MJ asked quietly, staring at Phil in disbelief.  
  
“No,” Phil ducked his head in mock sheepishness. “It took me a couple more weeks to finally say yes.”  
  
Abby leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Why? That has got to be one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard! I would have said yes.”  
  
Turning in his seat, Clint lifted a brow, curious as to what Phil’s answer would be to that question, because yeah, he thought it was pretty romantic sounding too. He watched Phil’s cheeks turn red, there was no denying it that time, and tilted his head.  
  
“I wasn’t sure Clay was serious,” He finally answered, eyes downcast. “After he wouldn’t stop bothering me for those couple weeks, I realized he was, had a minor meltdown at the thought someone as good looking and perfect as him could want a guy like me, and finally said yes.”  
  
It was Clint’s turn to blush and look away, even if Phil had just made up the story on the fly, it was nice to imagine Phil thought he was good looking. A round of sincere ‘aww’s went up around the table, making Clint blush all the more and chuckle softly. If it were ever an actual option, and if Phil had told him no, Clint probably would have kept pestering him. Maybe not so much with constantly asking him why he wouldn’t or dropping little hints about, but just to show he could be shot down, accept and respect that, and continue to value their friendship for what it was.  
  
From there, the conversation turned to what was going on in the retreat, the games and activities still planned for the next few days. They talked about their lives on the outside, but not about what caused them to come to the retreat. Clint was prepared for that question though, if the time came. It never did. By the time they were finishing up their meals, the topic of families had come up.  
  
Clint and Phil stayed quiet, trying to pick up on any underlying tones or suspicious questions and behaviors. Kip and Alexandra had four pups, apparently: a son, 10, a daughter, 6, and twin boys, 5. The way they spoke so fondly about the little ones was believable enough, and Kip even had pictures of the family in his wallet to show off. Randy and MJ didn’t have any and weren’t even sure they’d be able to have any. The sadness that radiated off MJ as she stared down at her plate, the tears welled up in her eyes and the way her hands sat gently on her flat stomach, it was real sorrow there. Sandra and Abby also didn’t have any, though Abby happily and shamelessly announced that she and Sandra tried to fix that every chance they got.  
  
Three pairs of eyes turned to Phil and Clint expectantly. Without so much as a second thought, Clint grinned and shrugged, scooting himself closer to Phil and pulling the man in against him. He tucked Phil under his chin.  
  
“Not yet,” He answered, a fond and wistful expression on his face. “We’re gonna wait until after we’re married and Bound. I wanna build us the perfect place to raise ours when we have ‘em. I know, kind of old fashioned and hokey but, doing things the old fashioned way, taking care of my Mate and building our own home...it’s nice. Makes things seem a bit more special. Plus, what kind of architect would I be if I didn’t personally design and have our home built for us?”  
  
The table sat quiet for a long moment, all eyes just staring at Clint in varying degrees of disbelief and wonder. It was enough to make Clint squirm.  
  
“How are you even real?” Abby asked quietly, her jaw slacked.  
  
Clint’s flippant laugh and ready remark were cut off when Phil leaned in against him, and suddenly there was a nose nuzzling against his neck and cheek. His breath hitched, eyes blown wide and his throat too tight to swallow through.  
  
Phil rested his head on Clint’s shoulder, giving one last nuzzle to the corner of Clint’s jaw. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing for years.” He murmured.  
  
Blinking, Clint ducked his head, coughing into his hand as the butterflies in his stomach turned themselves into tight knots. Jesus, that was definitely not fair. This whole mission was completely unfair!  
  
The sound of wood scraping over wood drew his attention back to their tablemates as Kip moved to stand, dropping a few bills down on the table to cover his and Alexandra’s meals. “Well, we still have an hour before the movie, but we should go get things set up and ready. Will you all be there?”  
  
A quiet chorus of ‘yes’ came from the three remaining couples.  
  
Abby gave a sudden yelp as Alexandra stood, her purse brushing over the bare skin of Abby’s forearm. Like a flash, people were moving at once to see what had happened, Alexandra apologizing profusely. On the other side of Phil, MJ pulled her own purse into her lap, digging for a moment to produce a bandage and small bottle of antiseptic.  
  
“Oh Abby, I’m so sorry!” Alexandra exclaimed, searching her purse for what could have caught Abby.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay! I work with animals, this isn’t any worse than a cat scratch,” Abby shook her head, pulling the napkin she’d quickly put over the tiny scratch. She looked up and accepted the antiseptic and bandage when MJ offered them.  
  
Clint leaned forward, brow furrowed as he reached across to catch her wrist, gently pulling her arm over to look it over. Which, as he found out, was the wrong thing to do. In an instant, Sandra’s hand was on his, forcefully prying his fingers from off her Mate’s wrist, a vicious snarl escaping her.  
  
“She doesn’t need _your_ help,” The female Alpha snapped as she pulled Abby closer to her, the air around her bristling with protectiveness.  
  
Instincts flaring for a moment, Clint snarled back. “I was just trying to help.”  
  
“Mind your own Omega,” Sandra glared for a moment before helping Abby to wipe the scratch down, the bandage going on overtop. Beside them, Alexandra apologized again.  
  
“I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s this clasp, I think. It’s got this little piece here that--”  
  
Grinning and moving to stand, Abby reached out to pat the other Omega’s shoulder gently. “It’s alright, honest! Sandy’ll kiss it, make it better, and I’ll be right as rain again by movie time.” With a nod to the others, she took her wife’s hand and tugged, pulling her off away from the table and towards the door.  
  
Clint watched carefully as Alexandra tucked the offending clasp inside her purse and clutched it tight to her chest as Kip led her away as well, calling a ‘see you guys at the movie,’ over his shoulder as they went. Frowning, Clint dug into his back pocket to pull cash out, tossing it on the table to cover his and Phil’s meals just as Randy and MJ moved to excuse themselves as well.  
  
There was something about the way MJ ducked her head, looking up to Randy from under her lashes that unnerved Clint. It was almost a pleased look, not quite cat who got the cream expression, but still just...off. Of course, then again, this mission was playing havoc with his mind to begin with, so it was possible that he was just imagining things.  
  
Phil’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. No words had to be said as Clint nodded and moved to stand. They still had a few things to do before they could go play like they actually wanted to be at the movie.  
  
Rain clouds had moved in while they were enjoying their supper, a gentle sprinkle coming down when they stepped foot outside. Phil’s hand had once again found its way into Clint’s, their fingers lacing together far too perfectly for Clint to comprehend. It was almost depressing how his little secret romantic heart soared at walking hand-in-hand with Phil through the rain back to their cottage. Never let it be said that Clint “Hawkeye” Barton wasn’t man enough to admit he had a soft spot for Happily Ever After’s and cheesy romantic comedies. And once a crack of thunder snapped above their heads, and the clouds opened, dumping their buckets of rain down around them, it felt exactly like a scene out of one.  
  
Clint yelped in surprise, instantly trying to tug his already soaked shirt up over his head as their hands separated. All around them, guests were scurrying to shelter, crying out at the cold pelts of rain drops. Phil was at his side the entire run from the restaurant, around the main house, and back up the little hill that would take them to their rented cottage. No sooner had Clint started up the hill that his shoe slipped on the wet grass. His arms wind-milled as he started to pitch forward, fingers grasping at anything they could to try and keep himself from face planting. A startled cry filled the air just as he caught Phil’s shirt and twisted, pulling him down for the ride.  
  
The breath left Clint’s chest in a harsh huff when Phil landed on top of him, an elbow jabbing him hard in the side. He slid on his back, down the short hill, and felt a laugh-groan bubble out of him along the way. Phil, apparently, didn’t find the humor in landing crosswise on his stomach, and his disapproving glare might have made Clint feel guilty, if it didn’t look so hysterical coming out from under rain soaked hair. Instead, Clint laughed all the harder, feet bracing on the slick grass to try and stop them from sliding any further.  
  
“Oh...oh man...you...you look k-kinda like...like a dr-drowned cat!” The words barely made it out of Clint’s mouth before he had to roll out from under Phil, laughing harder. When he glanced back and saw the surprised look of indignation on Phil’s face, what little bit of composure Clint had regained went right back out the window.  
  
Rain still pouring down on them, turning the ground to mud, Phil managed to push himself back to his feet in a somewhat dignified and graceful manner. Clint reached out for the hand that was offered to him, carefully trying to get his own feet back under him to stand up again. His knees slipped on the mud though, and with a brief look of terror crossing Phil’s face, Clint was once again being used as a barrier between the mud and the majority of Phil’s clothes. This time, it was Phil that started laughing first. A resigned, self-deprecating laugh at first, one that made Clint start to join in. Once he did, Phil’s laugh became more sincere, though no less resigned.  
  
They wiggled and squirmed, trying to get traction under themselves. Phil’s hands shifted to press into the ground on either side of Clint, turning himself to kneel and stand, only to have his hand slip out from under him again and land chest to chest, their faces only mere inches apart. Clint’s arms wrapped around Phil, holding him close as his laughter slowly faded to soft gasps to catch his breath. He blinked the water out of his eyes as he stared up at Phil, taking in the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the blue and grey staring back at him with a fleck of brown jutting across them, and how had Clint never noticed that before. A bead of water trickled down the side of Phil’s face, over his temple and down his cheek, crossing his lips.  
  
Without thinking, Clint leaned up, fully intent to lick the drop away. He watched Phil’s eyes darken, could feel his breath hitch and the quiet whimper escape as he leaned closer. So close their breaths could mix, falling hot and damp against each other’s lips. This was it! No one was around to interrupt them. He could finally kiss Phil. Could lick away the drops of rain that rolled across his lips and gently tug that bottom lip into his mouth and --  
  
“We need to get up,” Phil suddenly said, pushing himself up and off of Clint, scrambling backwards to stand once more. “We’re going to have to change clothes before we go to the movie...if they’re even going to still show it…”  
  
Clint’s heart sunk all the way down to his toes. His head dropped back into the mud behind him and he closed his eyes, just letting the pouring rain beat against his face in cold, sharp drops. He stayed that way for a few more seconds before finally standing. A shower was going to have to happen too before they left. At least for him anyway. Not bothering with the hand out, he rolled himself upright and turned to start carefully trudging for the cottage.  
  
By the time they reached it, the rain had done well to rinse most of the mud from their clothes, though once the door was closed, they still both stood on the cramped little spot of linoleum flooring just inside to take their shoes, socks, and jeans off, not wanting to track the mud across the carpet of the living room. Clint had never been so thankful that both he and Phil wore boxers.  
  
Phil moved directly for the bedroom, jeans folded up in his arms. “I’ll get the computer fired up, you go shower. Just leave the clothes in the bathroom. There’s got to be a laundry room we can use to wash them up in later.”  
  
And just like that, Agent Coulson made his unwelcome return.  
  
Frowning, Clint tossed his jeans into the bathroom on his way by to grab up a pair of new clothes and start up a fire in the fireplace. They were both soaked through, a little bit of warmth wasn’t going to hurt anything. As the flames began licking at the dry logs, Clint looked back over his shoulder one last time. “Get warmed up and into dry clothes before you catch cold.” He answered back, voice soft and subdued before disappearing into the bathroom, door shut and locked behind him.

* * *

  
  
The movie had been alright as far as Clint was concerned --of course, he’d seen it maybe once or twice before, so he could afford to zone out during it, especially with Phil sitting half on his lap during most of it. Due to rain, it’d been moved into a common room of the main building, with not enough places to sit, Clint had pulled Phil into his lap, doing what he could to maintain his cover of the doting Alpha.  
  
Half way through, while he was mentally running through Beach Boys songs to keep his mind off other things, he’d noticed a strange, sudden change to the air. A shift from near by. Nothing major, just a subtle difference, but one that he had the sneaky suspicion wasn’t supposed to happen. Someone had started their Heat cycle. He looked around as best he could without being too obvious and his jaw had dropped when he watched Sandra rushing up to Kip and Alexandra, motioning a bit frantically before hurrying off again, taking a clearly uncomfortable and flushed Abby with her.  
  
That...was weird.  
  
Phil had noticed it too and straightened up from where he’d relaxed in against Clint’s chest. Clint nearly whimpered at the loss, but kept it down as he nodded. Without a word, Phil pushed himself off the armchair they’d been sharing, only to be caught and reeled back in, Clint’s lips pressing to Phil’s cheek chastely, a soft smile played on Clint’s face when he’d pulled back and let go. They were being watched too, after all, it wouldn’t do to let “his Mate” go without a kiss.  
  
For the rest of the movie he thought about Abby and Sandra. Couples were discouraged from signing up for retreats if it landed close to when cycles began to avoid any Alpha scuffles and posturing. Bound or not, if an Alpha wanted to fight for an Omega in Heat, they could challenge the Mate for them. Most people weren’t dumb enough to do that sort of thing, but there were still some that maybe might have come from the shallow end of the gene pool. It was odd that Abby would have started hers so suddenly.  
  
By the time Clint made it back to the cottage, Phil was just returning from placing bugs at three of their four suspected couple’s places. Sandra and Abby had just been officially crossed off the list. The rain had calmed down to just a gentle sputter, leaving Phil’s shirt wet, but not soaked like it had earlier in the night.  
  
Clint did his best to ignore that. He moved instead to start the fireplace up again and change for bed.  
  
“Anything new from the Hub? They get us those background checks yet?” He asked, tugging his shirt up over his head, tossing it to his duffel on the floor.  
  
Phil stood at the laptop and frowned down at the screen like it had personally offended him. “Yeah, I’m sending the info to you. I’m going to make sure the bugs are working while you read that stuff over. I want to know what you think about it.”  
  
Shrugging, Clint slipped his jeans down, kicked them off towards his bag and climbed into bed. Once settled, he pulled his laptop onto his knees and booted it up. “Did you check on Abby and Sandra? Cuz that was just weird. A sudden Heat popping up like that without warning? Weird.”  
  
“I did,” Phil answered, back still to the bed. “It seems to be a legitimate Heat. The resort have two plain clothed guards patrolling near their cottage, making sure no one gets too close, giving them privacy.”  
  
Clint hummed thoughtfully, opening his email to bring up the information Phil had forwarded to him. “That makes sense. I mean, I wouldn’t want anyone trying to bust down my door while I’m busy taking care of business like that, ya know?” It was maybe a crude way of putting things, but it was to be expected of him. “Still, it’s weird. Takes ‘em off the suspect list though, at least.”  
  
Phil nodded, reaching out to mess with the volumes on the controls, but said nothing else. Shrugging to himself, Clint scanned the information, a frown growing deeper and deeper on his face. A lot of it he could have figured out on his own, but it was the background checks on the now three couples they suspected that threw him for a loop and made no sense.  
  
“Wait,” He muttered, shaking his head. “This...so Margot and Francois are actually Hillary and Louis Tuttle?”  
  
“Apparently so,” Phil finally turned, leaning his back against the table and crossing his arms over his damp shirt. “Witness protection couple. Which explains why they’re so twitchy all the time.”  
  
Clint frowned, eyes glued to his computer screen. “I just figured they’d gotten hold of some bad cheese or escargot or something. I _knew_ their names sounded fake.” Looking up, he met Phil’s gaze. “We should keep an extra careful eye on them, just in case. I mean, if they’re witness protection, then they’re already in trouble, and what’s to say our AIM Idiots won’t have already figured them out and decide to use them next for test dummys?”  
  
“Exactly,” Pushing himself away from the table, Phil started for his bag. “I have the bugs set up to send all audio directly to the Hub. They have people on hand to listen to it and decide from there what to do. They’ll be keeping in touch with us via text messages, so make sure your phone is charged.”  
  
Having the audio sent directly to the analysts back at the Hub was probably the best idea Clint had heard yet. He didn’t want to be the one to listen to those recordings and possibly hear the other couples taking the “love freely and openly” thing seriously. The last thing he wanted was to listen to other people having sex. Besides that, if the other agents were tasked with that chore, it left Phil and Clint open to focus more on their mission. They wouldn’t have to stay up all night listening and then try to function on next to no sleep. Like Clint was doing right then.  
  
Reading on, he glanced up just as Phil started for the bathroom. “How the hell is there _nothing_ for Kip and Alexandra? Or Randy and MJ? How...how the hell are they both clean as a whistle?”  
  
Phil paused at the bathroom door, hand resting on the jamb and a brow raised as he looked back at him. “That was my question.”  
  
“No, but...Coulson, there’s _nothing_! Nothing at all that could connect either of them to AIM. How the hell is that possible?”  
  
“Your guess is as good as mine,” answered Phil just as he slipped into the bathroom, door shutting behind him.  
  
It didn’t make sense! There were tax records going back fifteen years or more for both couples, some minor traffic violations for Randy, Alexandra apparently had a lead foot given her amount of speeding tickets. Work records going back to their teens, marriage licenses. Everything. Everything to prove they were real couples. There was even a copy of Kip and Alexandra’s counseling certificate. But not even a hint of anything AIM related. No strange new incomes or withdrawals from accounts. It just…  
  
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”  
  
Clint leaned back against the headboard and glanced over, watching Phil step out of the bathroom, bare chest and damp from head to toe, his sleep bottoms hanging loose off his hips. God that was unfair. Carefully, Clint readjusted his laptop, covering his lap a little better as he nodded.  
  
“It’s beyond frustrating,” He grumbled, scowling at his screen. “What the hell are we supposed to do now? Everyone else checks out, too. How are we supposed to know which one to go after? The Albright’s or Rudyard’s?”  
  
Phil took a deep breath as he moved around the bed and slipped under the covers, careful to leave space between them both. "We'll have to do things the old fashioned way, I guess. We'll keep watching them and see what happens."  
  
Clint frowned at that. It was obviously the only solution they had at the moment, but that didn't mean he had to like it. If the Hub had just found something, _anything_ that could have connected one of the couples to AIM, it would have made things so much easier. They could have known what to look for a little better and maybe with any luck, nab the right pair and have the mission completed by supper time tomorrow. But no. No, the universe wasn't going to be that kind to him.  
  
"You weren't wrong," Phil started, already moving to lay down on his stomach and get comfortable so he could get to sleep.  
  
Clint's eyebrow raised as he looked down at the man.  
  
"When you said Abby's sudden Heat was weird. It was. And it came on after coming in direct contact with both couples. One of them will slip up and give something away. We just have to watch and wait."  
  
"Yeah," Clint murmured, shutting his laptop down and setting it on the floor under the bed so he didn't step on it in the morning. Shifting to roll onto his side, his back to Phil, he sighed softly. "We've still got a few days. We'll get 'em."  
  
Behind him, Phil hummed noncommittally. Clint glanced back over his shoulder, watching as Phil's breathing evened out and he relaxed fully into the bed. They still had a few days to play pretend, but Clint wasn't entirely sure he could handle that. With a sigh of his own, he turned back towards the fireplace and watched as the flames flickered and popped, slowly dying out until only the faintest ember remained.  


* * *

  
  
"I just...sometimes I feel like he's ignoring me. It...I...I'm sorry,"  
  
Clint sighed softly to himself and shifted awkwardly in his chair. It was hard enough thinking about his own feelings, he didn't want to sit there and listen to others start to open up about their relationships. What was worse though, was the fact their relationships were real! Clint's wasn't! He was going to have to come up with some fake qualm he had with "Paul". Maybe it wouldn't be too bad. After all, their cover was that Paul was a workaholic, Clint could totally work with that.  
  
Still, it was really uncomfortable listening to everyone. At least Kip was sitting with them. The group had broken off into two smaller groups for their counseling session. Alexandra had half and Kip had the others. Their group consisted of a couple who hadn't had sex in close to a year and the Omega was starting to feel as if she wasn't desirable anymore; a pair that thought they could maybe be on the brink of divorce if things didn't change pretty soon; the couple that the Omega felt ignored and was currently crying; and lastly himself and Phil. He was keeping a close eye on Kip while Clint kept glancing across the room to the other group. From where he sat, he could just see Randy and MJ and just about make out what it was they were saying. Something about wanting a family and not knowing if they could.  
  
"Clay?"  
  
Snapping back to attention, he blinked and looked around the circle, finally settling on Kip's expecting face. "Huh?"  
  
"I asked if you had anything you wanted to share with the group. About Paul?"  
  
Color and warmth raced up Clint's neck as he coughed and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ahh...well...he's kind of a workaholic," He started, giving a small shrug.  
  
"I see. Which is why you're both here?"  
  
"Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, I know work's important to him and all, but it's not the only thing in life, ya know?" Clint swallowed hard as he shrugged again. "Sometimes it's like it was before we got together. Like he sees me but doesn't. If that makes sense. Kind of hard to be the Alpha and everything when your Omega is hell bent on making sure everyone knows he really doesn't need an Alpha."  
  
Beside him, Phil seemed to sit up a bit straighter and Clint wasn't sure if it was part of the act or not. He swallowed hard, not sure if he should continue or not. When no one said anything, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It was my idea to come here. I figured if we're gonna get married, then we need some help beforehand, before things get too out of control and I lose him or something. So, that's why we're here."  
  
Kip nodded and hummed thoughtfully, turning his gaze to Phil. "Paul? Is there anything you'd care to add? Your side of the story?"  
  
"Yes. I understand that I work a lot, but Clay knew that coming into the relationship. He's known that I work hard to break the stigma of being an Omega. I try to make time for him whenever he asks though. I even have a couch for him in my office for him to come in and spend time with me if he wants." Phil's voice was that familiar Agent Tone that he'd use during debriefings. Sticking just to the facts as he looked Kip right in the eye.  
  
Another nod and Kip glanced back to see Clint's reaction. Clint, for the most part, didn't have one. It was true, Phil did have a couch in his office and Clint would go and lounge on it. They'd crack jokes and he'd do his reports and paperwork there while Phil worked at his computer and made sure no juniors killed themselves before they could even go out on any missions.  
  
"Go on, Paul,"  
  
Phil sat quiet for a minute before he sighed and nodded, looking down to his hands. "Clay's a thrill seeker. An adrenaline junkie."  
  
Clint lifted his head, glancing back to Phil and scrunching his eyebrows. This didn't sound like an act anymore. That sounded heartfelt.  
  
"What sort of things does Clay do that you don't like? Does he listen to your concerns?" Kip pressed, leaning forward on his elbows and watching them intently.  
  
Phil shook his head, a sharp, half laugh escaping him as he finally lifted his eyes to look straight back at Kip. Not at Clint. "He never listens to my concerns about it. He'll jump off any high structure he can find. Rushes into things without thinking."  
  
"What? I do no--"  
  
"Clay, let Paul talk. You'll have your chance again in a moment and we can try to work something out. Go ahead Paul, how do you feel when Clay takes these needless risks?"  
  
It took a second or two for Phil to continue, and when he finally did speak, Clint was _certain_ it was _Phil_ talking. It had to be.  
  
"Terrified," Phil's voice was so soft, it even wavered slightly. The sound took Clint's breath away. "Every time he does something stupid like that, I'm terrified something's going to go wrong and I'll lose him."  
  
For a moment, no one said anything. All eyes were on him and Phil, and Clint felt like his heart was going to beat straight out of his chest. Swallowing hard, he reached his hand out, fingertips just barely brushing over the back of Phil's hand. When Phil met his gaze, Clint wanted nothing more than to throw himself at him and promise to start listening more and stop rushing into things without thinking.  
  
"So, it sounds to me as if the one thing you're both afraid of is losing the other. Be it because work pushes you apart, or because of a thrill going horribly wrong. You're both afraid you'll lose the other." Kip nodded, pushing himself back up right, his hands on his knees as he glanced between them both. "Clay? Do you have anything to say now that you've heard Paul's feelings?"  
  
"I'm sorry," Clint murmured, his hand still resting just ever so faintly atop Phil's. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't know it scared you that bad when I jump off of...things."  
  
A small twitch tugged at the corner of Phil's mouth as Clint caught himself before he could give anything away. "I'm sorry you think I prefer work over you."  
  
Kip cleared his throat softly, drawing their attention back to him. "Do you two think you could come to an agreement? Make time for each other everyday? Paul, maybe make a set schedule for yourself so you're home by say seven-thirty or eight o'clock? You two could make supper together. Something to reinforce the fact that neither of you wants to lose the other, or has any intentions of leaving. And Clay? Maybe you could cut back your thrill seeking? You two are going to be married after all. You expressed an interest in having a family of your own. Maybe it's time to start thinking before rushing into things?"  
  
Heat rose up to the tips of Clint’s ears again as he nodded and slowly pulled his hand away. Not because he wanted to, but because if he didn’t, he feared he never would. Before he could move his hand completely away, Phil’s turned over, just barely catching the tips of his index and middle fingers, squeezing them gently before releasing. It was something that might have been just a show for their cover, but there was something in Phil’s eyes that made Clint hope and pray that maybe it was more than that?  
  
“Good,” Kip gave a soft slap to his knees as he nodded to the floor. “Under each of your chairs is a piece of paper, a pen, and an envelope. Why don’t you all spread out and get comfortable. Don’t sit next to your partner, this is an individual activity. You’re each going to write a letter to each other. A love letter.”  
  
Clint had to force himself not to audibly groan at that thought. Hadn’t they shared enough feelings for one day?  
  
“It can be about whatever you want, so long as it lets your partner know that you do still love them, and care about them.” Kip continued talking as everyone started to get up from their seats and pick the items up off the floor. “You won’t be giving these letters to your partner right away. Instead, wait. Give it to them after your next fight to remind yourselves about all the good times you have together. Or you can exchange them on your next anniversary.” With one more look around at the group, Kip nodded and motioned for them to go ahead and get writing.  
  
All around him the others set to work, hunched over their papers, the pens scratching furiously as they wrote. From where he sat, Clint had eyes on both the other half of the group, where one and a half of their suspected couples were just finishing up and getting ready to write their own notes, and on Phil, who appeared to actually be writing, too. Clint sat for a moment, watching him, wondering what on earth he could be writing about. He wondered if Phil was writing as Paul or as himself, or if maybe all Phil was doing was writing down a grocery list or nonsense. Deep down, he wouldn’t let himself believe that Phil could honestly be writing anything about him.  
  
Sighing heavily, Clint turned his attention back to his own paper. He frowned down at it for a moment before finally pressing the pen tip down and began writing. It wasn’t a letter exactly, more like a list, thanking Phil for various things, confessing how much their friendship through the years has meant to him. That he was hopelessly in love with him and wished more than anything that Phil would give him a chance to be his Alpha.  
  
When Kip finally announced that time was up, Clint lifted his eyes and looked around the room. He watched the other group carefully, and when an alpha sliced their finger on the edge of their paper, Clint took notice. He watched for anything to appear out of place, but nothing happened. Alexandra asked if he was okay, MJ was on hand and at the ready with her little first aid supplies which he accepted with a thanks.  
  
Clint was too busy watching, waiting, to notice when Phil slid up behind him and rested his hand on Clint’s shoulder, quickly drawing him out of his thoughts. He looked up, surprised, and quickly gave a small, awkward smile as he folded his piece of paper and stuffed it into the envelope. “Hey, no peeking!”  
  
Phil rolled his eyes, but there was a sort of fondness in the action that made Clint’s breath catch. There was even a small smile tugging at the corner of Phil’s mouth and it took every ounce of willpower Clint had not to jump up and press a kiss there.  
  
The envelope tucked into Clint's back pocket, he stood and moved into Phil's space, close enough he could feel the warmth coming off him, even through the sweatshirt he was wearing and the sweater Phil had on. Their eyes locked for a moment and Clint could have sworn Phil's eyes had darkened a bit, changing from a cool grey to a stormy blue. It was enough to send the blood rushing south and Clint had to look away before it became embarrassing for either of them.  
  
"It's lunchtime, right?" He questioned, clearing his throat and stepping off to the side in order to give them just a bit more space. Not enough to be suspicious, of course. Their shoulders still brushed as they walked and Clint could easily reach his hand out and link his pinky around Phil's if he really wanted to.  
  
Phil nodded, already starting off for the door leading outside. "Yeah. Until one. Then we meet back here."  
  
Clint glanced back over his shoulder, watching as the others split off to go their own ways, some choosing to stay in the main building for lunch, a few slipping off towards the cottages, and just a couple others trickling off towards the Red Mill for a more relaxed lunch. Everyone seemed to have wandered off, save for the four in question.  
  
Kip and Alexandra seemed to be having their own private pow-wow with Randy and MJ, one that had MJ's hands gesturing animatedly, though Clint couldn't get a good read on what was being said. The conversation certainly didn't help to clear either couple's names; and it didn't help any when it suddenly stopped and four pairs of eyes turned to look directly at him and Phil as they were exiting the room.  
  
It was freaky and Clint was half expecting their faces to contort and jaws to drop, for an unholy screech to fill the air. It was like something out of a horror movie and it sent chills rushing down his spine. He covered it well though, tossing a wave back to them before slipping his arm around Phil's waist and leaning in close to him. His nose brushed just under Phil's ear.  
  
"We're being watched, I think we'd better make ourselves scarce for a while." He murmured, hiding his own mouth from sight and making it look as if he were kissing and whispering sweet nothings to his Partner.  
  
Maybe it was just because the air outside was a little crisp and a lot damp from the rain the night before, but Clint would have bet his last paycheck that he'd felt Phil shiver at that. For a moment, Clint didn't move. His nose was right up against Phil's neck, not even a half-inch away from the bonding gland that would swell with arousal and would feel so nice to run his tongue over, suck and lap at the sensitive skin, softening it so that he could take that claiming bite. It would be so easy to do right now, Clint could almost taste it.  
  
Eyes hooded and his breathing heavy, Clint turned his head, brushing his lips over the gland and felt a thrill rush through him when Phil actually let out a quiet whimper. "We could go back to the cottage," Clint whispered, breath hot and moist as he nuzzled against the spot again. "We could go back to the cottage and I could strip you down, rub your back and shoulders for you. I could take care of you. We could--"  
  
Phil stepped out of Clint's grasp, yanking a whine out of him as he did so. Clint stumbled to a stop, his eyes wide as he stared at Phil in confusion.  
  
"I should go check in with HQ, see if they've come up with anything yet." Phil looked flustered, beyond flustered, actually. He looked downright panicked. Phil Coulson never looked panicked, even when the world was practically ending around him, he held that air of indifference and kept his bland "I'm bored, are you done being an idiot?" expression in place.  
  
Stumbling backwards, he motioned off towards the Red Mill. "You should go have some lunch. Bring me back a hamburger and Coke." The words were nearly lost on the sudden breeze that whipped through the trees and sent a shower of leaves racing to the ground.  
  
Clint watched as Phil turned and hurried back towards the cluster of cottages. His heart and stomach both sank, and while he didn't have an appetite at all anymore, he wasn't about to make Phil go hungry. With a heavy sigh, he turned to the left, his hands shoved in his pockets and made his way to the casual restaurant just across the lawn.  


* * *

  
  
Clint did finally manage to eat something, not much, but an order of fries and a chocolate milkshake was still better than nothing. He’d sat around for a little while after that, watching the clouds roll in and out again. A couple from the retreat wandered by him, offering him a pleasant smile and nod hello and stopped long enough to find out where Paul was. No one had to know he was lying when he said Paul had gone to lie down for a while, try to get rid of a headache.  
  
At twelve-thirty, with a to-go container of food in one hand, and a large paper cup of soda in the other, Clint started the slow trek back to their cottage. His mind was still stuck on Phil, the way he reacted whenever Clint got too close, how they'd almost kissed twice but both times something spooked Phil and sent him running. He wanted to march into their cottage, shove Phil against the wall and kiss the daylights out of him just to see what would happen. Though, the rational part of his mind told him a good ass-kicking and reassignment to a new handler once the mission was over was all that he would get out of it in the end.  
  
He hadn't made it very far from the restaurant when he heard the yell from behind him. Frantic and desperate and most definitely a kid screaming for help. The containers hit the ground as Clint spun on his heels and tore off at a dead sprint in the direction the yell had come from. Phil would just have to go hungry after all.  
  
Rounding a cluster of Pines, Clint stumbled to a stop. Two boys, not much more than twelve, were standing on the bank of the lake, staring off in horror over the water. The taller of the two spun when Clint reached them, his massive brown eyes filled with unshed tears.  
  
"Help! Please! You gotta help!"  
  
Clint nodded, putting his hands firmly on the boys shoulders. "Alright, I will. What's wrong? What--"  
  
"It's my brother!" The boy turned, waving off towards the lake. "We didn't mean for anything to happen! You gotta help him! Please! He went under!"  
  
Fear and dread settled like a rock, heavy in the pit of Clint's stomach as he looked out over the gently rippling water. It was barely sixty-five degrees on land, he didn't even want to think about what the water temperature was just then. Still, he swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded, already moving to yank his sweatshirt and boots off. He didn't need those slowing him down.  
  
"Alright, 'bout how far out he'd get?"  
  
The smaller one shook his head as he shrugged. "He was trying to swim out to the bouy,"  
  
Clint glanced up, catching sight of the red object floating peacefully not more than fifty feet out from shore, marking the place where the land made a sudden drop.  
  
"He was maybe half-way there? I think? I dunno, you gotta help him!"  
  
Taking a deep breath, Clint nodded, shoving the shorter boy off to the side. "Run to the main office, tell 'em call 9-1-1. I'll get him. GO!"  
  
Clint's body connected with water the same moment the shorter boy went stumbling off, leaving the other standing on the shore to watch helplessly.  
  
The water was damn cold and would have sent Clint's system into shock if it weren't for the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He focused all his attention and energy on staying underwater for as long as possible, propelling himself forward in a combination of kicks and arm movements. It was dark under the water, mud and silt rising up around him as he skimmed the bottom for a moment before popping back up for another breath and then diving back down again. He wasn't quite half-way out yet and the cold water was starting to stiffen his fingers as he felt around in front of and below him.  
  
How the hell a kid managed to make it this fair was anyone's guess.  
  
Pushing himself further, Clint could feel his lungs begin to burn and knew realistically he'd need to pop back up for air again, but still he kept swimming. Kept searching. His eyes sting from the murky water and he could already feel a headache pressing in on all sides of his skull from lack of oxygen. Another forty-five seconds ticked by, and grey was starting to fuzz around the edge of Clint's vision. He didn't know how long he'd been under water this time, though he knew his record for holding his breath in the SHIELD training pool was just under six minutes.  
  
That was in clean, temperature controlled water, though, not a murky lake that couldn't have been much more than forty-five, maybe fifty, degrees.  
  
When the buzzing in his head intensified to a roar, Clint knew he was out of time. He had to go up for air. Swinging his legs under him, he swung his arms out, ready to brace his feet and push off towards the surface when he felt it. A piece of fabric that was definitely a shirt of some kind. Hope renewed, Clint fought to keep himself going as he grasped hold of the shirt and gave a tug, a body colliding with his.  
  
Wrapping his arms around the boy, Clint kicked and fought his way back to the surface, coughing and gasping for air when his head broke through. He kept one arm wrapped tight and secure around the little boy as he made his way back to shore where a small gathering of people had already clustered up to watch.  
  
Clint was panting by the time he was able to stand and pick the boy up to carry him the rest of the way. All around him guests gasped and cried out in surprise, fanning out to give him room. He was moving on auto pilot by now, his years of SHIELD training for emergencies kicking in and telling him he needed to get the water out of that kid's lungs and air moving again soon.  
  
Laying him flat on the ground, Clint put his ear next to the boy's mouth, letting a colorful curse loose when he couldn't hear anything and saw his chest wasn't rising or falling. Beside him, the taller boy from before whimpered pathetically, mournfully crying for "Matty" to be okay. He set to work pressing down on Matty's chest, firm but careful movements, struggling to get a pulse going again. At the end of the first thirty compressions, he paused, putting his ear back to Matty's face and cursing again when there was still nothing.  
  
Somewhere in the crowd a woman screamed and rushed forward. Clint ignored her. He tilted Matty's head back, pinched his nose and set into giving CPR. Two breaths, thirty compressions; two breaths, thirty compressions.  
  
"C'mon, Matty. C'mon, Buddy. Breathe, kid...breathe!" Clint's own panic was beginning to rise the longer the boy went without taking a breath of his own.  
  
The third time Clint was compressing his chest, Matty's body shook as he coughed, water sputtering up out of his mouth. Clint sat back, watching wide-eyed as the little boy began to breathe on his own at long last. It wasn't much, thready at best, but he was breathing. He fell back onto his rear just as the paramedics burst through the crowd, barking orders at each other and the group still milling about, a backboard in tow.  
  
A blanket was draped around Clint's shoulders as two of the medics broke off from the group to tend to him. He welcomed the blanket, not realizing until right then just how cold he'd become from being in the water shirtless, and then being in the cold, fall air soaking wet and half naked. Clint kept his eyes on Matty, watching to make sure his chest continued to rise and fall as the medics strapped him to the board, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Clint waved off the one offered to him.  
  
When the medics and Matty's family all hurried off to the waiting ambulance, Clint allowed his shoulders to sag and the adrenaline to leave him shaking and shivering on the ground. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there until a pair of strong hands hauled him to his feet, one arm wrapped around his waist to keep him from falling down, but in the blink of an eye he was pulled flush to a firm chest, warm lips pressed hard to his in a near frantic kiss.  
  
Clint would later blame mild hypothermia for the way it took his brain far longer than it should have to realize it was _Phil_ trying to climb into him by way of mouth. It wasn't until Phil had jerked back and let go as if he'd been suddenly burned that Clint figured out what had just happened. A kiss. A kiss from Phil. A kiss from Phil and Clint was too out of it to have even noticed until it was too late! He whined in protest, reaching out to grasp Phil's shirt in his hands, trying to pull him back in for another kiss, one he would actually acknowledge and remember later, only to have his boots and sweatshirt thrust into his arms instead.  
  
"You...you should get dressed and back to the cottage to warm up." Phil instructed, turning his eyes away as he took another step back.  
  
Letting out a strangled gasp and groan, Clint whined pathetically as he pulled the blanket around him tighter. He was exhausted, his head was throbbing, and he'd just had probably a good ten or fifteen years scared off him all because a ten-year-old kid had to go and do a stupid to try and impress his older brothers. He was in absolutely no mood to deal with Phil's confusing game of Tease.  
  
His face set in a scowl, Clint hugged his belongings to his chest, tightened his hold on the blanket, and trudged off for the cottage without a word. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to eat. And he _definitely_ wanted this g'damn mission to be over and done with.

* * *

  
  
When Clint opened his eyes, it was to the sounds of a fire crackling in the hearth he didn't remember starting, and fabric across the room rustling quietly. He laid perfectly still for a moment, staring at the wall across from him and just listening, trying to comprehend what had happened. The last thing he remembered was getting back to the cottage, taking yet another shower, and collapsing onto the bed. He didn't remember falling asleep at all.  
  
Shifting, he rolled onto his back, taking the covers with him.  
  
"You need to get up," Phil said from across the room. His voice sounded muffled and Clint looked to find the man was yet again facing the wall, messing with their small control area.  
  
Clint grumbled and frowned, pushing himself up to his elbows. "You need to stop being so Goddamn bossy," He mumbled back, not quite loud enough to be heard. With a heavy sigh, he turned to slip out of bed and get up, only to pause suddenly when he felt a cool breeze across places he shouldn't be feeling one. His eyes wide, he peeked under the blanket and stifled a yelp.  
  
Okay, falling down onto the bed buck ass naked with the intent of crawling under the covers, that he did remember.  
  
The realization that Phil had come into the cottage and seen him lying spread eagle on the bed was more than a little humiliating. The fact that Phil had apparently covered him up and started a fire for him to ward off any serious chill while he slept, was both embarrassing and endearing at the same time. Of course, there was still the little matter of Phil acting like a hormonal teenage omega that was pissing Clint off. Why would Phil be taking care of him if he wasn't interested? Was he interested? Hell if Clint knew! The signals were all kinds of mixed up and confused and he was honestly about two seconds away from saying "Fuck it all!" and avoiding Phil for the rest of the mission.  
  
With a heavy sigh, and with very little shame, Clint pushed the blankets back and moved to stand. Not like Phil hadn't already seen everything, right?  
  
"What time is it?" He finally glanced over his shoulder to steal a look at Phil before shuffling to his duffel to grab a new change of clothes. His other couple of pairs he may just have to torch, it'd be easier than trying to get them clean at this point.  
  
Behind him, Phil continued to stare at the wall. Fine by Clint. It was making the point quite clear and obvious.  
  
"Three-thirty. Everyone is out on the couples nature bingo hike. We've been excused from the trust exercises thanks to you saving that pup."  
  
Clint paused as he was buttoning his jeans. He thought back to that water, to the boy who'd been stupid enough to try and swim to the bouy and back. It was a stupid stunt, and one Clint felt certain he probably would have tried to do at that age too.  
  
"Sorry I dropped your lunch," He mumbled, shaking his head and digging around for a clean shirt. "Hope you got to eat something at some point."  
  
"I did."  
  
Clint shivered slightly as he felt Phil brush past him on his way out into the sitting room, the words ghosting across the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Phil's scent was still intoxicating and Clint just knew he was going to have to drink himself into oblivion in order to try and purge it from his memory once they got home.  
  
Tugging the black T-shirt down over his head, he glanced back into the sitting room. "Alright, so...it's obvious you've got something planned, wanna fill me in?"  
  
Phil looked up, blinking at Clint owlishly. "We're going to split up. I'm going to go check for anything unusual at Kip and Alexandra's cottage, you're going to check out the Albright's cottage."  
  
It sounded simple enough, something they'd done a hundred times on a hundred different missions. At least split up, Clint would have a chance to try and get his head on straight again, maybe even start working on rebuilding some of those protective walls that had come crashing down around him during the past few days.  
  
Nodding, he slipped his feet into his boots, laced them up and grabbed a comm from off the table by the window. "I'll let you know if I find anything interesting." He promised as he slipped out the door and started on his way across the grove of trees.

* * *

  
  
The Albright's cottage was set up almost identical to Clint and Phil's, except for the fact theirs was actually more of a studio instead of the three separate rooms that Clint's was. Which made things admittedly easier to search through.  
  
" _Barton, talk to me. Anything?_ "  
  
Clint forced himself not to sigh at the familiarity of having Phil's voice right in his ear again. It was comforting and grounding, and maybe just a little bit maddening at times.  
  
"Negative," He whispered back, still sifting through the suitcases carefully. "Just clothes in the bags. Haven't checked the nightstand or anything yet. Getting to it now. Anything on your end?"  
  
There was a pause for a moment and he could almost imagine Phil stalking through the other cottage, no doubt with his own spy theme music playing in his head (because it was Coulson, and Coulson was a big nerd like that, no matter how much he argued he wasn't).  
  
" _Nothing._ "  
  
"If either of these guys are AIM, they're sure hiding it well. You're sure there's nothing over there? No Love Potion Number 9 stuff or anything?"  
  
" _I really doubt they'd label it that,_ " Clint could hear the smirk behind those words and let his own smile creep across his face. How was it they could be so at ease and bantering together on the comms like it was nothing, but in the same room they could hardly say more than one sentence at a time to each other? If they were lucky.  
  
“Never know,” he quipped back, “This is AIM we’re talking about. The idiots run around looking like disgruntled beekeepers, and --whoa. Holy shit…”  
  
“ _What? You found something?_ ”  
  
Clint stared down at the bottle in his hand, his jaw slack and eyes wide. “You’re never going to believe this. It’s labeled Love Potion No. 9.”  
  
The bottle was a small, deep purple orb, flat on the bottom so it wouldn’t roll away, with a spritz top.  
  
“ _You’re joking, right?_ ”  
  
Smirking, Clint rolled the bottle in his hand for a moment, took a sniff and nodded. “Yeah, I am. But there’s apparently an actual perfume called that. It was in the bedside table. That’s just weird.”  
  
Clint could hear Phil sigh and grumble on the other end of the comm, probably cursing Clint’s twisted sense of humor. Chuckling softly to himself, he put the bottle back in the drawer and closed it gently before pausing. “Wait, want me to get a sample of it? What if that’s actually it? I mean, it could be, right?”  
  
Phil was quiet on the line and Clint wondered for a moment if Phil was in trouble. He stiffened, back straight and shoulders tight, ready to bolt at the first grunt of pain. It never came.  
  
“ _Get a sample. But make it quick. We’re running out of time._ ”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
He dug into the pocket of his cargo pants, pulling a small plastic container and narrow plastic test tube out. Quick as he could, he set about getting a Q-Tip soaked in the liquid before stuffing it into the test tube and popping the cork lid back on it. No sooner had he placed the perfume back in the drawer that he heard the noise outside.  
  
God this was so not his day.  
  
“Shit. Going dark.” He muttered, quickly thumbing his comm off and looking for a place to hide. A key jingled in the door and Clint could just barely hear the muffled voices on the other side. The Albrights were back a little bit early from the hike.  
  
Dropping to the floor, Clint rolled himself under the bed and fixed the blanket so he wasn’t seen just as the door opened and the couple walked in.  
  
“All I’m saying is, we should give it a chance,” MJ’s voice was quiet, almost uncertain. Clint could just barely see their shoes as they moved around the bed.  
  
A men’s pair of shoes stopped just even with Clint’s nose and he shimmied just a little bit further under the bed while Randy was talking.  
  
“It isn’t ready yet. They don’t even know if it really works.”  
  
“But it does work! It’s been tested. You heard what they said, the results were promising.”  
  
Clint’s eyes narrowed. This could be the lead they’d been waiting for!  
  
“Mel, one Omega going into an unscheduled Heat hardly qualifies as reliable proof that the drug even works. We can’t go rushing into this. I want more proof before I agree to anything.” There was a quiet pause, followed by a sigh and what was definitely the sound of kisses being exchanged. Clint suddenly wished he were deaf.  
  
When another, more resigned sigh filled the air, he watched as the feet disappeared from sight, the voices further away from the bed.  
  
“Alright. We’ll wait. But I don’t know how much longer _they’re_ willing to wait before they need an answer.” The rest of MJ’s words were cut off by the closing of the door.  
  
Clint waited for a few more minutes until he was sure the couple was gone and not coming back before he slid out from under the bed and thumbed his comm back on.  
  
“Coulson,”  
  
“ _Clint! What happened? Are you--_ ”  
  
“Get hold of HQ. Tell ‘em to start reviewing all the feed for the Albrights they got. I think we got our AIM Idiots.”

* * *

  
  
Clint sat on the small sun porch that overlooked the lake. The moon was bright and near full in the sky, casting a soft silver glow across the earth. Phil had gone to bed and fallen asleep hours ago, after they’d spent the rest of their evening going over possible game plans and sneaking out to retrieve the bugs from Margot and Francois’ cottage. Clint hadn't been able to fall asleep though. His mind was too worked up thinking about the next day.  
  
They weren't allowed to make a move on Randy and MJ, not until they got the okay from the higher-ups, but they still had worked out their attack plan, one that would have the least amount of impact on the other guests and with any luck keep property damage down to a minimum. That wasn't exactly the problem that was keeping Clint awake though. It was the thought that by suppertime tomorrow he'd be back at SHIELD HQ, going through his debriefing and then having to go back to life as usual. There'd be no more pretending that he and Phil were a couple, that they were engaged and waiting for the right, special moment to bond. Not that they were all that convincing as a couple at the moment to begin with, but, the few moments of getting to really pretend had been nice. Holding Phil's hand, having him sit on Clint's lap during the movie and getting to have his arm around Phil during meals. It had been as close to the real thing as Clint was ever going to get.  
  
He sighed as he stared out over the water, watching the gentle rippling of waves bounce and distort the moonlight, and his mind went back to that boy he'd saved earlier in the day. Clint could only imagine the kind of terror and panic Matty's mother must have felt when she found out he'd been pulled from the water. It was every parent's nightmare hearing their pup was in danger. Clint wondered idly how he'd react to such news if it'd been his own pup that had to be pulled from the water and given CPR. Not that it would ever happen, he and Phil would make sure theirs knew how to swim and were smart enough not to--  
  
"Jesus fuck, Barton, get a hold of yourself," Clint quickly shook his head, chastising himself for even toying with that idea! Phil had been making it clear that he wasn't interested in Clint. Not as anything more than a friend. And by "clear", Clint obviously meant it was as clear as mud. He was so confused by Phil's actions, he didn't know what to think anymore. One minute it seemed like they might have something there between them, the next, a freezing cold bucket of water was being dumped on his head and Phil was treating him with a colder shoulder than a snowman.  
  
It was enough to make his chest tighten and ache just thinking about it. Maybe it was just Phil's out of whack hormones playing tricks on them both. Maybe that was why they'd go from hot to cold at the drop of a dime. Maybe Phil really wasn't interested, but being an unbound Omega, forced off his suppressants, on a mission with an unbound Alpha was making all those long buried instincts come forward and cause him to do the things Clint knew for a fact Phil wouldn't normally do.  
  
Whatever it was, it would all be over soon. They'd go back to work and Phil would get his suppressants back, and they'd go back to normal. Just friends. Just Coulson and Barton, half of the formidable Strike Team Delta. He just wished they didn't have to.  
  
Behind him, the sound of sheets rustling and bare feet touching the floor drew him from his thoughts, even if he didn't bother to turn his head and glance back at Phil. He sat quiet, still staring out the window until he felt the warmth and gentle pressure of a hand resting on his shoulder.  
  
"Clint...?"  
  
He still didn't look. "Yeah?"  
  
The pressure on his shoulder increased, a gentle hold tugging him to turn. "Clint, come to bed. You need to sleep."  
  
There was something off about Phil's voice. It was softer, not just in volume either. Sleep thick, heavy, but soft, almost fond, and for a moment Clint allowed himself to close his eyes and imagine that this was a common thing for them. That taking a trip up to Vermont in the fall to watch the leaves change and just spend time together, get to know each other again, was something they did every year. That having Phil gently coax him back to bed was something that happened so often, it was practically second nature.  
  
Swallowing hard, Clint gave a small nod. His eyes were closed, forcing back the tickling he felt behind the lids. "I will in a few. Just trying to get my brain to shut down enough to be able to sleep."  
  
Phil's hand moved from Clint's shoulder to the nape of his neck, giving it a firm squeeze and just the faintest of brushes across the soft, short hairs there.  
  
"Open the windows, get some fresh air. That'll help." Phil murmured back. The pressure disappeared from his neck and Clint bit back a whimper at the loss. Phil had gone back to bed.  
  
Clint swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. "Yeah," He croaked out, voice catching on the single word. "I'll try that..."

* * *

  
  
Waking up the next morning, Clint groaned as he reached back to rub the kink out of his neck. At some point during the night, a sweatshirt had been folded up and tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow, one the blankets from the foot end of the bed draped over him. Another case of not realizing he'd fallen asleep.  
  
This time though, the cottage was quiet. Phil wasn't there waiting for him to get up.  
  
Clint frowned at that as he stood, folded the blanket back up and looked to the sweatshirt. It was one of Phil's. Soft and worn, the color long faded and the silkscreen logo on front was flaked and half gone. Clint had never seen that shirt before. He folded it carefully, tucked it into his own duffel for safe keeping. He'd give it back to Phil. Eventually. Maybe. If he was questioned about it.  
  
There was a note left on his side of the bed, written on an empty envelope that Clint recognized from their first day there. He picked it up and couldn’t help the warmth that swelled in his chest.  
  
 _I don’t know what time you finally fell asleep, but I figured I’d let you sleep. Went for breakfast. If I don’t see you by 8:30, I’m coming to get you._  
  
 _Have your phone on and with you at all times. HQ will be texting with instructions at some point today._  
  
 _~Phil_  
  
Setting the note back down on the pillow, Clint grabbed a quick shower, dressed and headed off for breakfast. He and Phil had missed supper the night before, trying to work out a plan of attack, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through his shower that Clint realized just how hungry he really was.  
  
The whole walk to the dining hall, Clint kept checking his phone, waiting for the go ahead from HQ to take down Randy and MJ. He knew they wouldn’t be allowed to until the higher ups had the proof they’d been waiting for, but that didn’t mean Clint wasn’t itching and ready to go. There was a reason he was a sniper and not generally an undercover agent. In a perch, tucked away and hidden from sight, Clint could sit and wait for hours, _days_ if need be, to hear the words needed in order to take his target out. On the ground, he was exposed. Not having that buffer of distance between him and the suspects made him twitchy and uncomfortable.  
  
Not to mention, Natasha was constantly reminding him how piss-poor his hand to hand combat was. He didn’t like being that close to the action. He was only human, after all.  
  
He stepped into the main lodge dining hall with four minutes to spare, and made a beeline straight to the breakfast foods. Phil was around somewhere, he wouldn’t be too hard to find, and Clint had learned over the past couple of days, if he didn’t at least eat breakfast, his chances of another meal during the day were slim to none.  
  
Plate piled high with pancakes and eggs, Clint turned to scan the room, smiling when he caught sight of Phil sitting towards the back, a gathering of other Omegas sitting clustered around him. God only knew what kind of knitting circle Clint was about to invade on, but he headed straight for it anyway. Besides, Phil was blushing and looking bashful and there was no way in Hell Clint was going to miss out on that!  
  
As he drew closer though, no one in the group noticed him just yet, he drew up short when he heard the topic being discussed. There, hanging from a chain around Phil’s neck, was the tiny purple and silver tin ring that Clint had honestly forgotten all about.  
  
"C'mon, please tell us?"  
  
"You don't have to tell us how he originally proposed, just, how he did it this time."  
  
"Yeah, c'mon! We told you our stories."  
  
The Omegas surrounding Phil were all leaning in close, staring at him expectantly and occasionally reaching out to touch at the ring hanging from around his neck. Clint felt a small surge of protective jealousy swell up in him at that action, though he quickly stomped it out, reminding himself that he really didn't have any claim to Phil at all. Besides, it was just a group of bound Omegas. They were anything but a threat to him.  
  
Pink rose up on Phil's cheeks, creeping all the way up to the tips of his ears as he shrugged and glanced down at his hands. It was adorable and awkward and everything that Phil normally wasn't.  
  
"It was last night," He started with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "We were sitting in one of the chairs on the porch, watching the stars and the moon and everything."  
  
Clint's stomach tightened and for a brief moment he debated making a break for it. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be hearing this. Not with the way Phil's voice sounded. How he spoke like it had actually happened and it had been the most wonderful thing in the word for him to experience.  
  
"Awww!!" One woman to Phil's left coo'd, already going all teary-eyed at the thought.  
  
"Were you sitting on his lap? Like you were during the movie the other night?" Someone else, Clint thought her name might have been Cindy, asked.  
  
Phil looked up, a small smile playing on his lips as he met her eyes and gave a bashful little nod.  
  
"Arms around your waist and the whole holding you close like--"  
  
"Like I was the most important thing in the world?" The blush rose farther up to Phil's hairline as he drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. We were sitting there and he put his chin on my shoulder and...he just really quietly and shyly asked me to marry him." Phil paused to laugh, shaking his head as he looked back down to the ring and reached up to touch it, slide it along the length of the chain around his neck. "He tried to put the ring on my finger, but, well, these little things weren't designed for a grown man's hand."  
  
The women gathered around him laughed, nodding in agreement.  
  
Clint felt sick to his stomach. The way Phil described things, how he made up the way Clint would have proposed to him was just mindbogglingly perfect. Clint had always imagined how he might ask Phil to marry him, to be his Mate. It was always something quiet, private. Just the two of them out somewhere. A stark contrast to Clint's usual boisterous ways. It would have been something romantic. Just like Phil described.  
  
A heavy lead landed in the pit of his stomach though, when realization finally sunk in. Watching the moon and stars, out on the porch in that chair. Phil had to have been watching him sitting out there all alone. He had to have been watching him and thinking the same thing as Clint, about how nice it would be for this to be real and a regular thing for them.  
  
Turning, he quickly and quietly slipped off towards a different table, playing like he hadn't seen Phil at all and just decided to sit by himself to eat breakfast. He'd just gotten comfortable and was staring at his food, his appetite waning, when the chair next to him slid out and a body slipped in to sit down beside him.  
  
"Excuse me,"  
  
Clint lifted his head, surprised to find Margot suddenly there beside him. Blinking, he straightened up, wiping his hands on his napkin as he nodded. "Yeah. Margot, right?"  
  
Margot nodded, her eyes quickly darting around the room before settling back on Clint. She looked nervous, more so than usual. "Yes. That's right. I don't want to be a bother but, I saw you, last night. You and your Omega."  
  
Clint's blood began to run cold.  
  
"You were outside our cottage. Taking things down from the window frame. I just...are you police?"  
  
"Uh...well...kind of?" Clint glanced off towards Phil before looking back to Margot. "Why, what's wrong?"  
  
"You're police?"  
  
"Something like that...why?"  
  
For a moment, it seemed as if Margot wasn't going to say anything else, like she was just going to sit and stare at him instead. She finally broke, leaning in closer. "I don't think Kip and Alexandra are who they say they are."  
  
Clint's brows scrunched together as he stole another glance away, this time around the room to look for the leaders of the retreat. He hadn't seen them yet, but that wasn't uncommon. They were part of the early riser crowd that got breakfast at seven in the morning. Looking back to Margot, he drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, uh, what makes you think that?"  
  
"I overheard them talking this morning," Margot fidgeted with the tablecloth, not wanting to meet Clint's gaze. "I was out for a walk while Lou, Francois, was still asleep. I like to get up early and go for walks when the sun is just starting to come up."  
  
Nodding in understanding, Clint sat quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.  
  
"I was walking down by the water when I heard voices. It was Kip and Alexandra. They were talking about a project, I think. Something to do with Abby's sudden Heat coming on, and how their 'formula' didn't seem to affect Alphas since Michael cut his finger on an envelope yesterday and he didn't go into Rut."  
  
Clint's heart stopped dead in his chest. The color draining from his face. The envelopes. All the envelopes had been laced in something? He quickly looked back to Phil and felt a rush of panic wash over him. Phil had been handling those. What if --  
  
"They also said, they were ready to move to phase two?"  
  
Attention snapping back to Margot, Clint narrowed his eyes in thought. "Phase two? Did they say what that was?"  
  
"No," Margot shook her head, "not exactly. It had something to do with Randy and MJ, though. Something about an injection. I think."  
  
In his pocket, Clint's phone vibrated for almost a full thirty seconds. That was it. That was the text they'd been waiting for. Pulling the phone out, he stared down at the message.  
  
 ** _Albrights clear. Do not engage. Rudyards are AIM Agents. Take down immediately. Extraction and backup ETA thirty minutes._**  
  
 _W_ ** _ARNING! Formula delivered through bloodstream. Avoid direct contact if injured._**  
  
Looking back up to Margot, Clint reached out to squeeze her arm reassuringly. “It’s alright. My partner and I are going to handle everything. Why don’t you and your Alpha go back to your cottage for awhile, alright? Things are about to get crazy here.”  
  
Without another word, he stood, phone in hand and strolled purposely towards the group of Omegas. Coming to the edge of their little circle, he cleared his throat and held the phone up for Phil to see.  
  
“We gotta go.”  
  
Instantly, the act of Paul Clarkson dropped, replaced instead with Agent Phil Coulson. Clint could see it in the way Phil’s eyes suddenly darkened a bit, and the grim mask of determination settled over his face again.  
  
Clint didn’t even pay attention to anyone else as he weaved through the dining area and made his way to the door. In a moment, Phil was by his side, strides matching as they headed down the steps and across the lawn.  
  
“Just like we planned?” He asked.  
  
“Yep,” Clint pressed his lips together before giving a small shrug, “Only we’re not going after Randy and MJ. We’re going after Kip and Alex.”  
  
He could feel Phil’s surprised glance, but kept straight on walking. Both couples had been missing from the breakfast room and Clint had the sneaky suspicion that they’d be at the cottages.  
  
“So we need a new plan.”  
  
Shaking his head, Clint pulled his small throwing dagger out from the small of his back where it’d been hidden. “Nah. Just get the Albrights away from the Rudyards, take the Rudyards down, and don’t get cut in the process. By the way,” Clint glanced over, quickly taking stock and looking Phil over from head to toe. “You didn’t lick the envelope with that letter we were suppose to write, did you?”  
  
“No,” Phil shook his head and kept his eyes staring straight out in front of him.  
  
“Good,” Clint nodded, never breaking stride. “Because the envelopes were laced in whatever formula these quacks cooked up. It only works on Omegas. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to suddenly go into He--”  
  
Phil cut the sentence off sharply, “I’m fine.”  
  
Nodding and deciding to drop the subject, Clint moved to take point, letting Phil cover his six as they approached Kip and Alexandra’s cottage. The lights were on in the main room and two figures passed by the closed curtains, followed shortly after by two more figures. Clint silently motioned to Phil that all four were inside, and rushed to follow when Phil moved to stand at the door.  
  
Element of surprise was the best way to go. It would throw everyone off and with any luck, Clint and Phil could get the Rudyards down on the floor without anyone getting hurt in the process. Standing at Phil’s side, Clint waited for the signal before leaning back and delivering one quick kick in just the right place to send the door flying open.  
  
What neither of them had planned for, was the surprise being used on them, instead. No sooner had Clint burst through that he had a solid body slamming into him from the side, shoving him hard into the wall. A yell of surprise went up from the bedroom, and Clint just barely caught a glance of MJ standing in the doorway looking absolutely horrified, before he was kicked hard in the stomach and shoved head first into a vase on the table.  
  
Natasha was never going to let him hear the end of this.  
  
Shaking the stars from his vision, Clint pushed himself away from the table quickly and pivoted, kicking his leg out to knock Alexandra’s feet out from under her. Yeah, Natasha was really going to let him have it when she heard about this. He made a leap for Alexandra when she started to roll and push herself up.  
  
“Stay down,” He growled, tackling her and going into a roll, struggling to keep in control even while she pulled a small knife from somewhere and tried to slash at him. She managed a lucky shot, catching his left bicep and leaving a one inch gash across his arm.  
  
Swearing loudly, Clint knocked the knife from her hand, finally managing to get her pinned on her stomach, arms behind her back. “Your little Horny Juice doesn’t work on me. I’m an Alpha, remember?” He growled, letting the commanding Alpha tone drop into his voice as he pushed her arms harder into her back. “Now stay down.”  
  
“Clint...”  
  
Clint’s head shot up at that one, single, strangled word. He stared in shock at the sight of Phil being forced to his knees, head yanked back by his hair, and Kip standing behind him. There was a syringe in his hands, poised right at the crook of Phil’s neck and a malicious smirk on his face.    
  
“Of course it doesn’t work on Alphas,” sneered Kip, nodding to Alexandra before looking back up to Clint. “Do you think we’d be stupid enough to work with this stuff if it did?”  
  
Looking back down to Alexandra, Clint felt his blood run cold. Fucking suppressants! In an instant, he was being flipped from her back, the fight starting anew. He struggled to focus on getting her down, but he kept catching sight of Phil. His skin was flushed and a thin layer of sweat had started to form at some point and it made Clint’s throat go drier than Death Valley in August. Something was off and it was wreaking havoc on his mind.  
  
“Seems your Omega here has an unscheduled Heat starting up,” Kip tsk’d as Clint continued to fight against Alexandra. “It’d normally be slow building, take him a few hours to finally have it be that desperate need. But...with a dose this size,”  
  
Phil whimpered and Clint saw red.  
  
Still smirking, Kip pressed the needle into the soft tissue of Phil’s neck. “A dose this size will make it kick in almost instantly.”  
  
A fierce, protective scream filled the cottage as Clint grabbed Alexandra by the neck and slammed her against the wall, letting her fall unconscious to the floor before he leapt at Kip. He landed the tackle straight at Kip’s waist, knocking him down and away from Phil. It was a vicious battle between Alphas, one that rivaled any Clint had ever seen for a struggle of dominance and right to claim an Omega.  
  
In the end though, it was Clint who came out on top. It would be hard not to when Kip’s neck had made that sickening snap and he stopped moving under him. Leaving him lifeless on the floor, Clint moved back for Phil. All thoughts of anyone or anything else left his mind.  
  
Phil’s scent was beautiful and amazing, like the way the earth smelled after a good rain storm. It was heady and the most wonderful thing Clint had ever experienced and he nearly went mad from it. It was only the way Phil had curled up on himself, whimpering and gasping that kept him from going insane. He dropped to his knees beside Phil, automatically reaching out and pulling him in close.  
  
“Shh, it’s okay, Phil. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Clint murmured, stroking his hand down Phil’s fevered skin and feeling the wash of want race over him again. He swallowed hard and forced himself not to react. To keep petting and murmuring softly to him until the extraction team arrived.  
  
He ran his hand down Phil’s arm, pulling him in closer and carefully looking him over for anything that could have caused the initial sudden unscheduled Heat. It wasn’t until he brought Phil’s right hand up that he saw the skin tone bandage stretched across the space between thumb and forefinger that hadn’t been there before. Carefully pulling it back, Clint groaned softly. A small paper cut was sliced through the skin, deep and bright red and no doubt the cause of it all. Clint thought back to the envelope on his pillow and sighed heavily.  
  
“Aww, Phil,” He murmured, shaking his head and pressing the bandage back down while Phil squirmed and whimpered pathetically. Pressing his lips to Phil’s head, Clint held him close, rocking him back and forth gently until the teams could arrive.  
  
When they did, it was two medic Betas that stepped forward, carefully pulling Phil from Clint’s grasp. Clint hadn’t even realized the teams had already shown up and were moving into clean up mode. Phil struggled at first, crying out when he’d been pulled away from Clint, but calmed when one of the Betas gently injected a mild sedative into him.  
  
“Get him back to base as soon as possible. He was in forced Heat, off his suppressants, medical needs to see to him _now_.” Clint ordered, moving to stand as Phil was carefully strapped to a backboard that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.  
  
“Clint,” Phil whimpered. His eyes were foggy and slightly panicked and it tore Clint’s heart to shreds.  
  
He stepped up, shaking his head and motioning to the Beta team members to start heading out without him. “You’ll be alright, Phil. They’re gonna take care of you. You’ll be okay. Promise.”  
  
Another whimper filled the air, followed by Clint’s name, tight and desperate and needy. Clint swallowed thickly, his dull fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists and watched as Phil was rushed to the waiting helicopter on the front lawn. It was only after the helicopter was off the ground that Clint stepped outside for a deep breath of fresh air to clear his head and got to work helping the clean-up crew. Phil would be fine once medical got hold of him. Clint still had things to finish up here.  
  
One last deep breath and Clint turned, a scowl firmly in place as he pegged Randy and MJ with a stone cold glare. “Albrights. With me. I think we need to have a little chat.”  


* * *

  
  
It was four hours later by the time Clint was climbing onto the second helicopter along with the rest of the backup team. Kip and Alexandra both were being sent to base via ground teams, Kip in the back of a nondescript black van, Alexandra under guard in an SUV. He’d just settled into his seat and thunked his head back against the metal interior behind him when he felt the tap on his shoulder.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Opening his eyes and rolling his head slowly, Clint stared blankly at the specialist left standing outside the helicopter, an envelope in hand.  
  
“Sir, this fell from one of your bags.”  
  
Clint reached out for it hesitantly before nodding his thanks and watching as the young woman went rushing off to catch a ride in one of the SHIELD SUVs. Too tired to think about what it could be, Clint tucked the envelope into his cargo pants utility pocket, rested his head back again and closed his eyes. He’d worry about it later.  
  
Later, it turned out, was much later than he’d been expecting. No sooner had the helicopter landed at the base and Clint had stepped off, that he was being ushered off to debrief with Deputy Director Hill. A long and torturous process on a normal day, intensified tenfold by the bone deep desire to find a hole to crawl into instead of give the play-by-play of the past three days to a woman Clint was fairly certain could in fact kill him with just her stare alone.  
  
From there it was off to medical for a full and complete check-up, as well as three pointless stitches in his arm. It was while he was sitting in medical that Natasha slipped into the room, a small, teasing smirk quirking the corner of her mouth.  
  
“So, I hear your hand to hand could use some serious work, Barton.”  
  
Clint groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Cram it, Tash.”  
  
He felt her sit beside him on the exam table, no doubt giving the poor doctor trying to look him over a challenging glance in order to stay right where she was. When no protest was made, Clint lifted his eyes to meet his best friend’s. There was something about the look in her eyes that was unsettling for no real apparent reason.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Why didn’t you come back with him?”  
  
The question was blunt and to the point and hurt in just the right place.  
  
“I had to help with cleanup, talk to the Albrights and figure out just what the hell they were doing with the Rudyards. I couldn’t leave,” The reason sounded weak even in Clint’s ears, and must have sounded even worse when he looked up again to see one red brow expertly arched at him.  
  
“There were others on the ground who could have taken care of things for you. Sitwell was there, he could have done the interviews if you’d asked him to.”  
  
Clint’s brow scrunched in confusion. “Sitwell was there? Really? I didn’t see him--”  
  
“That’s because he went on the evac with Coulson when you didn’t.”  
  
Clint flinched again, mentally beating himself over the head for not going with. Sighing, he shook his head. “It wouldn’t have done either one of us any good if I’d gone with. Besides, Phil doesn’t want me. Not like that.”  
  
“And you know this for certain?”  
  
“Tasha,” Clint set his features and squared his shoulders just enough to be sitting up straight. “Believe me, I tried a few times to make my feelings known. He shot ‘em down every time. He doesn’t want me.”  
  
Natasha’s smirk returned, a knowing glint in her eyes as she gracefully slid from the exam table and folded her arms over her chest. “For a man who doesn’t want you, he was apparently asking for you and you alone an awful lot on the way here, and once medical got ahold of him. I’m pretty sure most of the staff down here is now convinced you two are a bound couple.”  
  
“He was in the middle of a forced, unscheduled Heat. I’m an unbound Alpha and he--”  
  
“He’s waiting for you in your quarters.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” Clint practically fell off the table, his eyes wide and skin suddenly very flushed.  
  
With her nonchalant ease and grace, Natasha shrugged before patting the pocket where Phil’s letter was still sitting, waiting to be read. “I would read that before you go see him.”  
  
Clint watched, dumbfounded and speechless, as Natasha turned and slipped from the exam room just as silently as when she arrived. Getting the go ahead from the doctor to put his shirt back on, Clint fumbled with the fabric, barely getting it yanked over his head before he was reaching into his pocket for that envelope.  
  
His name, not Clay Burton, was written in careful script across the front, and Clint felt his throat quickly tighten up. Hands shaking slightly, he pulled the note from inside, unfolded it, and quietly began to read it to himself.  
  
 _Dear Clint,_  
  
 _I’m not sure why I’m going along and doing this, but as this may be my only chance to say this, I suppose I better._  
  
 _You’re so incredible, Clint. You’re smart, talented, funny and compassionate. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you these past couple of days. Believe it or not, I’ve been terrified out of my mind that you’ll find out just how far gone for you I am and that it will ruin the friendship between us that I’ve come to cherish far too much. I haven’t been very fair to you, and I’m sorry. The fact that you have been respectful of me, and of my current imbalance, shows just how good of a friend, of a man, and an Alpha, you truly are._  
  
 _You’re everything I have ever wanted to find in a Mate, but had given up on finding. I would love nothing more than to roll over for you, to let you claim me as yours, if you’d want me._  
  
 _I wrote down the mission in Barcelona as my favorite trip with you, not only because of our ridiculous peanuts vs. pistachios argument, but also because, as I was trying to get you to our extraction point, I realized that I would never be able to live with myself if anything happened to you. That was the mission that I realized I’d fallen in love with you._  
  
 _I realize you may not feel the same_  
  
With a strangled sob and in a blur of dark fabric, Clint was out the door and racing down the halls towards his quarters. Phil was in love with him! Phil wanted to be his Mate! He wanted Clint to claim him! _Phil Coulson wanted him_!  
  
Clint stumbled and tripped as he got to his door, crashing through it with about as much grace as a three legged elephant, and tumbled into the room. Right away he knew Phil was there, without even seeing him, he knew. That perfect, beautiful scent hit him like a brick wall, and when he caught sight of Phil standing awkwardly in the middle of his room, dressed down in loose fitting blue jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, all rational thought went out the window.  
  
In three strides, Clint was in Phil’s space, pulling him in close and smashing their lips together in a deep, desperate kiss. A make up for the one he’d been too in shock to enjoy the day before. He felt Phil melt in against him, felt the whimper and groan that escaped them both, and tightened his hold on him. One hand coming to rest on the back of Phil’s neck, grasping it firmly, protectively, just like he’d wanted to since forever.  
  
When they finally pulled back, both panting and tingling from lack of air, Clint tipped his head in close to Phil’s neck, kissing and nuzzling at the Bonding gland possessively. “I thought...I didn’t think you’d be out of medical so soon.”  
  
Phil groaned, his hand tightening on Clint’s hip. “They were able to level me out. Still technically in Heat, just...with the edge taken off.”  
  
“God, Phil…” Clint pulled back to look Phil over, making sure he hadn’t been seriously injured in the fight.  
  
“I read the letter,” He panted, eyes locked on Phil’s.  
  
“I assumed as much.”  
  
“I want you, too.” The words tumbled out of Clint’s mouth before he could stop them. “I’ve wanted you for the past...I don’t even know how long. I love you. I...I want to be your Alpha, please?”  
  
Despite the haze and neediness that hung heavy in the air around them, a playful smirk and glimmer danced in Phil’s eyes. “Is this your proposal? Because I’m fairly certain you can do better than that.”  
  
A low growl escaped him as he crowded Phil into the nearest wall. “You’ll get a proper one later. Right now, just tell me yes, you’ll be mine, so that way I can toss you down on the bed and claim you like we both want.”  
  
“Yes,” Phil whispered, his breathing stuttered and eyes gone dark and hooded. “I’ll be yours, Clint. Always.”

* * *

  
  
\------ **EPILOGUE** \-----  
  
 _Three months later..._  
  
Clint groaned as he rolled onto his back, panting heavily and grinning like a fool as the cool December breeze rushed through the partially opened window and felt like Heaven on his overheated skin. Outside, the moon and stars shone bright in the sky, sparkling off the freshly fallen snow and setting the world awash in its pale silver glow. Everything felt right and good in the world as he slowly came down from the haze of Rut.  
  
Beside him, Phil shivered slightly, and Clint couldn’t help chuckle as he moved to pull the blankets up over him. It’d been three months since they finally got their acts together and did something about their attraction to each other. Two and a half months since they married and bound themselves together. It had been one hell of a whirlwind ride, but it had been fun.  
  
Waiting until Phil had rolled onto his back and gotten snuggled down into the blankets, Clint pressed himself in close against him, head resting on his Omega’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Clint’s hand came to rest on Phil’s stomach, rubbing soothing circles up and down from pelvis to sternum and back again. He paused when he reached the soft spot of Phil’s lower stomach and smiled, idly running his hand back and forth over that one place.  
  
“Clint?” Phil’s gentle, quiet voice pulled Clint from any thoughts or daydreams he might have been having and he turned his head just enough to smile up at his Mate.  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
A soft, fond smile broke out across Phil’s face as he brought his hand up, carding it through Clint’s sweat soaked hair. Clint keened into the touch, his eyes shut and body relaxed as the last bit of his own frenzy faded from his system.  
  
“You back with me, Babe?”  
  
Humming softly, he nodded and opened his eyes again, his hand falling still on Phil’s stomach. There was something off about the look in Phil’s eyes, something good though. Like he was keeping a secret and wasn’t sure just how long he’d be able to last without spilling it. It was beautiful. _Phil_ was beautiful. _Beyond beautiful_.  
  
Phil must have decided Clint was back in his head enough to focus and gave a small nod before he moved carefully to open the bedside table drawer. “I was going to wait until Christmas morning for this...but…”  
  
His words trailed off as he shut the drawer and laid back down, making sure Clint’s hand hadn’t moved at all before setting a small, childish stocking across his chest. Clint stared at it for a long moment, trying to figure out why Phil looked so impish about a Christmas stocking, until he saw it. The small pocket with the clear plastic window, just the right size for a picture to slide into. The picture was blurry and printed in black and white, with a white circle around a large black spot in the center. Taking up the majority of that spot, two bean shapes huddled close together, a comic dialog bubble above them, one directional line coming from each of them.  
  
“Merry Christmas… _Daddy_?” Clint read aloud, eyes wide and jaw dropping. Scrambling to sit up, he clutched the stocking and stared at it again. “ _Merry Christmas, Daddy_. Phil! You...you’re...we’re…?”  
  
With a smile bright enough to rival the moonlight pouring onto their bed, Phil took Clint’s hand again and placed it back on the soft spot. It was only then that Clint realized not only was it soft, it was also just barely starting to bump up higher than the rest of Phil’s flat stomach.  
  
“Ours, Clint. Ours.”  
  



End file.
